


1976

by ASomewhatCuriousInvitation



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1970s, Canon Compliant, Drug Addiction, Everyone smokes weed, F/M, Falling In Love, First War with Voldemort, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Lesbian Character of Color, Love, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Mental Health Issues, Mild Smut, Minor Kurt Cobain/Courtney Love, Muggle Culture, Muggle London, Muggle-born, Multi, Musicians, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV Female Character, POV Sirius Black, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexuality is a spectrum, Sirius Black as Padfoot, Slow Romance, Swearing, Young Sirius Black, only a bit of canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASomewhatCuriousInvitation/pseuds/ASomewhatCuriousInvitation
Summary: "Remind me again why we didn't do that sooner?"Life had been somewhat simple for Sirius Black and Lara Love. Hogwarts in the 1970's had been their arena, and they were the champions. Separate champions, of course. Content to ignore each other as worthy opponents often do in the face of certain defeat. That is, until a chance encounter in the summer of 1976 opened their worlds to the poignant possibility of each other. It was from then, along with the changing seasons, that something began brewing between their stolen glances and stifled thoughts that risked everything: their bodies, their sanities, their hearts.orIn which two stubborn and secretly broken teens try to deny their feelings but fall in love anyway. It would have been easier to single-handedly take on the giant squid.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Original Character(s), Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey prospective readers (or not, this might totally tank), welcome to the Marauders Era as imagined by me. Just some notes before we crack on. First fanfic attempt, original started over on Quotev but wanted to post here too so I can add in some smut later on.  
> The story is quite character driven - be prepared for a somewhat slow burner.
> 
> Trigger warnings in tags. Rated mature mainly due to prolific profanity and drugs. Any smut will be mild, mostly implied right now, maybe dirtier later - will change rating if so. The story is the main jam and its gonna be angsty.
> 
> There are also a few other characters/inspirations that I’ve used to enrich the story, both small and big parts, notably Kurt Cobain/Nirvana and the music of Courtney Love/Hole. Croft Manor/Lara Croft may come into it if I have the time to continue writing this story well into 1977, but that storyline is planned for another day.  
> Everything that didn't come from my head will be credited and everything I reference (apart from songs) makes sense for the era; I've done my research on what was and wasn't around during the 70's.
> 
> I imagine Lara in this story to look like Jolie’s character Kate Libby from Hackers or Gia from Gia. Dunno if AO lets you link pics for OC visualisation but hopefully my descriptions are sufficient. 
> 
> The story is told in lots of flashbacks, nostalgia runs deep.

**Mid-winter, early 1977**

Their faces were inches away from each other, breaths mingling and curling in the icy air.

“Fuck…” Sirius murmured.

“I know…that was, like…woah,” Lara mumbled dazedly, and he softly chuckled.

“Remind me again why we didn’t do that sooner?” he asked, interlocking his fingers with hers and bringing them to his mouth gently.

“Because,” she said slowly, a grin steadily spreading on her face, “we’re both massive pussies.”

“Fucking _enormous_ pussies!” he groaned, and she laughed at his pained expression. “I can’t believe we basically flirted for almost five months.”

“Unbelievably tragic.”

“Well, we’re here now, finally…only took most of 1976.”

And words failed her as he began kissing down her neck, over her breasts, lingering for a heady moment on her nipples, her stomach, below her navel…she inhaled sharply and a moan cascaded back out, tumbling into the night around their entwined bodies.


	2. Early Spring, 1976

Sirius Black was lounging in a chair; languorous, insouciant, left arm draped over the empty one next to him. It was around midnight, and he was watching. Plush lips, a flash of feline eye, the shadow under a carved cheekbone. Her. Dancing among the throngs of students. 

She appeared to emanate a glow that drew the world towards her; whether it was her beauty, the fact she seemed irresistibly devil-may-care, or the liquidity with which she moved her body, it was hard to tell. It could have been the seventh whiskey he'd backed that night, but in that moment Sirius had never wanted someone so badly, a thought that panicked him as much as it excited him.

He knew her only as much as one knows a classmate; her friendship with Lily had ensured a certain distance from him and the Marauders over the years. But he had always thought she was strikingly beautiful, perhaps too much so. Her face had an unearthly quality; a collection of coveted features, total symmetry. Neither too hard lined nor softly meandering. Sirius wondered if she could be part Veela.

She: Lara Love.

Although her attraction of eyes was incessant, many complained about her hair and clothes, grumbling at how punky she always looked. Earrings, a home-done tattoo on her inner left arm. Sirius smiled to himself as he watched her purple hair flipping around. He thought she always traversed the line between effortlessly cool and dubiously eccentric well, erring on the former, even when she slicked her hair with gel and wore all leather. He knew that most boys only championed this story to ease the embarrassment when she inevitably rejected them, claiming, shifty eyed, “she’s a weirdo anyway, just thought I’d try it.”

There was an ease with which she inhabited herself, an assurance of who she was, that attracted people and scared them in equal measure. It was the latter that had always made Sirius hesitant; both collected the eyes of nearly everyone at Hogwarts, yet neither had attempted to swap grey for green or green for grey. Sirius was unsure, fearful, of what her response would be if he held out a hand with a decidedly oleaginous globe in its palm. He imagined he would ask for one of hers in return, and she would look away in disgust, leaving him desecrated and disfigured. And so he had kept her away, kept her in the deep recesses of his mind, the pit where dreams and a mother's love is kept, took comfort in the fact that he came across outwardly the same, convinced himself his feelings were fictional...it felt too dangerous to be any different.

 _Exactly_ _._ He was down a well trodden path. _Y_ _ou don’t like her in that way, you don’t even know her really – she could be a bitch, she’ll probably break your heart, she’s dating that bellend anyway, you didn’t think about her in that way before…_

 _That’s because you never let yourself think_ , a snide voice wafted through his head.

 _NO, that’s because I didn’t think._ The path had trespassers. _She doesn’t even like you, just forget about it, you're Sirius Black, people want you, you don't want anyone, she’s dating a Slytherin anyway…guitar wielding dickhead_...

Sirius frowned, absorbed in his thoughts.

~

The music changed tempo and Lara came to. Feeling heady, she ambled over to the drinks table, snagged a swill of Ogden's, and proceeded to roll a cigarette. She had just popped the end into her mouth and was looking for her wand when someone said,

“Need a light?”

She glanced round at the smooth voice and saw Sirius, a smile playing around his mouth, already twinkling in his eyes.

“Sure, thanks.” She smiled, and he lit her cigarette with a wink. “Where are the boys?”

Sirius shrugged. “Probably with girls somewhere…James likely stalking Lily from a shadowy corner…”

Lara snorted. “Losing brain cells by the minute, that one,” she said, shaking her head.

“Anyway – “ but before Sirius had time to finish, Lara had flashed him a grin and darted off into the crowd.

He stared after her, bewildered and a little hot around the collar.


	3. Late Spring, 1976

“Yeah, but, the riff doesn’t make sense – “

“No, no, it does, just because the lyrics say you’re in love, doesn’t mean the riff has to, love is painful – “

“The riff is beyond painful, more like I’m gonna chop your dick off and eat it for dinner – “

“Exactly! That’s the point!”

“But I don’t _want_ to say that; I don’t want people to think I’m in pain – “

“But you _are_ , the lyrics came from a moment of pain, why be a scared little bitch about it.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Lara. They were sitting on the floor of a large stone room on the fourth floor of Hogwarts. High windows, thick rugs, an assortment of musical instruments.

“Look, all I’m saying” – she gesticulated over her guitar, right hand holding a pick – “is that contrasting music and lyrics is more interesting than a bog-standard love song. Think Motorhead, think the Pistols, Ramones, all those muggle bands get it!”

Kurt pursed his lips and resumed strumming his own guitar, deep in thought. With shoulder length dirty blonde hair, stubble, and a cigarette perpetually hanging from his mouth, he looked straight out of some of those muggle bands Lara mentioned. Except for the purposeful baggy clothes, which both him and Lara had a penchant for, and which were a far cry from the leather-clad, theatrical tendencies of 70’s bands. Him and Lara were more like a stoned Siouxsie and the Banshees,“but better,” she always firmed.

Lara had met Kurt when she was in her first and he in his third year. Both muggle-born; the former a Gryffindor, the latter a Slytherin. Lara found herself regularly contemplating Kurt's sorting. She knew there would have been a choice - there had been for her; the sorting hat wasn't unreasonable. But instead, he existed on the fringes. The target of vile words and nasty expressions. He seemed not to mind too much; he had always been a misfit, an outsider, and, like the bands he idolised, that was what kept the music coming.

 _Well, that, and drugs_ , she thought gloomily, as her, Kurt, and all their friends had done more than flirt with muggle narcotics during their time at Hogwarts. Kurt often found sober days to be a bit too uncomfortable, as if his clothes were slightly constricted around the underarms. So, he experimented, and in turn, Lara experimented, who also had a sometimes-strained relationship with normality.

Kurt was already in a band during Lara’s first year when the drummer had dropped out to focus on Quidditch. Lara had stormed to the unused classroom - three sweaty boys, the charmed amp screeching - demanding Kurt let her play. They had all laughed in her face, a tiny first year with her cheeks screwed up and hair flying, until she grabbed the sticks and jumped on the empty set, watching with satisfaction as the smirks slid off their faces like mud.

While for Kurt music stemmed from disillusionment, for Lara it was born from a desire to survive. Her childhood was a time she thought of darkly. What saved her, when she was on her own at the tender age of 9, was music. She could still feel the day on her skin: a chilly autumn evening; a rough buzz-cut a local waitress had given her out of pity; an over-sized jean jacket. She had heard it suddenly in the distance, as if the wind had changed direction: melodies and voices and percussion. She'd followed that sound, hungry eared and wide eyed, until she found herself outside the gates of a large, run-down Victorian building in Camden. Slipping through the bars like an alley cat, she soon found the epicenter of that strange and wonderful noise. She had stayed there all night, among the teens and young adults, smoke hanging in the air, beer-stained floor, watching the men thrash around on stage. She became a regular after that, the locals finding it funny having a kid around. She traded favours, that which only a child could accomplish unnoticed, for room and leftovers and, most importantly, music. Within six months, she was riffing a guitar, banging drums, and playing the mildewed piano with a competency of someone twice her age. She thought, in those days, that she could die happy there.

Until she got her Hogwarts letter, of course.

Lara blinked, looking over at Kurt who had his head bent over a music sheet, back in the room that now showed evidence of a starting summertime through the windows. They had only started dating in her fourth year. He was possessive, jealous and insecure sometimes. But she could be aggressive, arrogant and a total fucking bitch when she wanted to be. They were kind of like The Joker and Harley Quinn of Hogwarts – two toxic troubled teens. Lara smirked to herself, musing over the muggle comic book characters that her and Kurt often unintentionally dressed like. Sometimes she thought they were only together because of their mutual musicality and fucked up mental health.

They had grown attached, more like magpies to shiny things than real love.

Lara sighed and stood up. “I’m gonna go and have a shower before dinner.”

“Fine,” he replied, not looking up, “don’t slam the door.”

Lara rolled her eyes as she pushed open the door and set off down the hallway, chuckling lightly as the clang echoed off the walls and a distant profanity bellowed behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo hoping any readers so far are enjoying - music is a big influence in my writing of the marauders era and I wanted Lara to be a musician. peace.


	4. Early Summer, 1976

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> direct carry-on from marauders scene in JK's book.

Lara stood up abruptly from where her, Marlene and Alice were paddling their feet under the early summer sun. The words had rung through the grounds, rippling over the lake like skimming pebbles:

“Mudbloods like her!”

Lara scanned the scene, fury building: a humiliated and vengeful Severus Snape scrambling up off the floor; Sirius Black, his wand out and pointed; Lily Evans striding swiftly towards her; James Potter shouting after her, a look of dismay and frustration on his face. Despite the coolness of Lily’s exterior, Lara could see the hurt etched in the creases around her eyes and the quiver of her lip. She swallowed, halting the diatribe that had been so ready on her tongue. It would only add to Lily's pain. 

“Fuck, Lils...are you okay?” Lara asked, the girls squawking battle-cries of indignancy around them.

“What an arsehole!” fumed Marlene, “Lily this is the last straw, you _can’t_ be friends with him still after this, you just _can’t_!”

“It’s tough Lily, but I think she’s right. It’s clear Snape is a very different person now.” Lara frowned and sat back down, pulling Lily gently with her.

“Sometimes people just grow apart, you know,” said Alice gently, her big brown eyes wide and full of worry.

Lily said nothing and dipped her feet back into the lake, staring around the grounds. Behind them they could hear cheers and shouts and it was obvious James and Sirius had resumed their torment. It was the middle of their OWL’s at the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts. A lot had changed in the last month: Lara had broken up with Kurt and dived full time into her band; Lily’s relationship with Snape had become tense and tiring; Marlene was sure she’d been in love three different times; and Alice had started going out with Frank Longbottom, a kind and cheerful boy in the year above.

Lara glanced over her shoulder at the commotion. Snape was still upside down, desperately trying to hang onto his underwear which seemed intent upon leaving him. Her eyes glided across the scene, browsing the eager faces, until they unexpectedly locked with another pair. Stormy grey and sultry, Sirius Black’s eyes held her gaze. He was hanging a little back from the circle of students now, haughty and casual still, but…intense. With some irritation, Lara wondered why he wasn’t looking away, but there was something in his gaze she hadn't ever seen before. A nervous defiance, perhaps. As if he liked what he was doing and was challenging her to stop him. Feeling slightly flustered beneath her cool exterior, she looked away and settled on a spot across the lake parallel to Lily's. It was such a beautiful rock, grey, and smooth, and grey...

“Oi, I heard someone got disrespected! Are we hexing the fucker or what?!” Jigs stalked over cracking his knuckles, and Ray, Nood, and Emmanuel trailed behind.

Lily managed a small smile as Ray overtook Jigs and enveloped her in a big hug.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead gently and held her tight, his dreadlocks and dark skin mingling with her auburn locks and paleness.

Ray and Jigs were Gryffindors in the year above whom Lara had immediately befriended in her first year. Both black men from London, they had found brothers in each other. Ray was as gentle and mature as Jigs was boisterous and silly.

“I’m fucking serious right now!” said Jigs menacingly, “Lily, I know he’s your friend but let me hex the shit out of him!”

Lily bit her lip and glanced towards the shouting cheers anxiously. “I don’t know…”

“Lily, you should hear him in the Slytherin common room,” said Nood quietly, crouching down, as Jigs paced behind him. “He’s basically a death eater now.”

Nood was a Slytherin in their year who came from a conservative Japanese wizarding family. He presented the picture of a perfect muggle-hating boy to his parents, but in reality he was kind, accepting, and more open-minded than most. He rejected pure-blood values and was thus labelled a blood traitor by many of his peers. He and Lara had met when she began playing in Kurt’s band.

“Lily, honestly, I think you should let them,” Marlene piped up, “also, Em, come and plait my hair please.”

“Look babe” – Emmanuel plopped down behind Marlene – “you need to learn how to do it yourself, so you don’t look like a desperate scraggly whore when I leave next year.”

“Ouch, bitch,” Marlene huffed, but both met each other’s eye and giggled.

Emmanuel was a tall Ravenclaw in the year above. He had made fast friends with everyone in third year when he started coming to terms with his sexuality and stopped trying to fit in. It was an ordinary Tuesday when Emmanuel had complimented Marlene on her glittery eye-makeup and the rest of the group had found them dolled up together in the music room. Since then, many at Hogwarts considered him a freak but he found true and loyal friends in their merry band of misfits.

Lara looked over at Nood, his quiet voice still cajoling, his sleek black hair leaving spiky shadows on his furrowed brow. Jigs was still frantically pacing behind.

“Come on, Lily!” Jigs finally burst, “Let me strip him and leave him tied up with his little prick hanging out!”

“The Marauders beat you to it anyway,” said Lara, nodding in the direction of the crowd who had just let out their loudest cheer yet.

“Oh, I can put a cherry on top of that cake still, don’t worry!”

Lily couldn’t help but giggle. “Sit down Jigs, please, I’m fine!”

Jigs hesitated, grinding his fist into his other palm, his eyes on Snape who was still hanging by the ankle.

“Fine!” he huffed eventually, sprawling on the grass around them, his dark brow the only tell-tale sign of his residual frustrations. 

Lara turned back to her right.

“Why don’t we have a name like The Marauders?” asked Emmanuel.

“I mean, we trialled The Misfits didn’t we, but to be honest I think it’s a bit too late in the game.” Lara was lying on her back now, brushing her hair which had grown too long out of her eyes, examining her nails.

“Speaking of The Marauders, and desperate whores,” said Marlene slyly, “don’t think I didn’t notice that little staring competition you just had with Black, Lara.”

Lara grimaced. “Purely unintentional on my part I’ll have you know. It’s not my fault if I turn around and he’s watching me.”

“Yeah, yeah, unintentional I’m sure,” drawled Marlene, “why don’t you just fuck and get it over with? It’s clear he wants you; it’s been clear for months!”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “Why on earth would I fuck Black? He’s been inside so many girls I doubt he even has a foreskin left.”

Emmanuel snorted behind Marlene's impassive expression. Lara could almost feel her honeyed curls crackling under his deft hands as she readied her assault. 

“Erm – let me see – because you’re both super-hot and probably good in bed so it would almost certainly be insane sex, it’s been so obvious since March that he’s into you” – Marlene was counting down on her fingers – “I think it’s becoming increasingly obvious you’re into him, and if you don’t _I will_!”

“It is absolutely not increasingly obvious I’m into him, and I really don’t think he’s into me!”

But even as she said it to scoffs from her friends, she felt the hairs on her neck tingle, as if someone somewhere was watching her with stormy grey eyes.


	5. Early Autumn, 1976

Lara Love was sure she had been alone and in a bathroom stall. She remembered the hard stone ground that compressed her knees and the newly cleaned copper chamber pots she had spotted the week before to repressed glee. But instead, warm blankets cushioned her back and low voices rapped lackadaisical. Feigning continued sleep, she strained her ears in perfect stillness but the words diced over each other like fly fish, snippets of conversation cutting in and out, and she could feel her patience already waning. Lara opened her right eye a sliver, peeking through her eyelashes, and a discombobulated array of colours and shapes blotched her vision. As sudden as the decision that brought her there, a wave of nausea rose into her chest. Abandoning her subterfuge, she vomited off the side of whatever she was lying upon. Heavy footfall and exclamations came her way, large gentle hands rubbed her back, small soft ones felt her forehead.

“She’s a bit warm,” the small soft hands worried in a kind, high voice. Lara could imagine the speaker biting her lip anxiously, brow furrowed.

The large gentle hands spoke. “Lara? Lara, are you okay?”

Recognising the deep, calming voice, Lara opened her eyes with a jolt and croaked, “Ray?”, only to be met with more nausea and subsequent mollification.

“Just keep your eyes closed,” Ray said firmly, “Lara…we found you on the floor of the girl's toilets unconscious, there was an empty whiskey bottle…and then when we tried to take you to Madam Pomfrey, you woke up and went fucking ballistic, said you would shave our heads in our sleeps if we took you there.“ Ray laughed grimly. “So, we’ve brought you to the music room.”

“Then you said something about siras, or saras,” the kind voice chimed in, and with a stab of realisation Lara recognised Lily. “Which we had no idea what that meant, but Ray thought you could have meant Xanax…did – did you take Xanax Lara?” Lily finished quietly.

Lara frowned out a deep breath, thoughts in disarray. Although she had blacked out, Lara clearly remembered the moment she was crushing up a pill on the helpfully flat toilet lid. If they were asking her, she must have left no evidence to discover.

 _You stupid idiot,_ she thought harshly, _you know more than two at a time on booze fucks you up, what the fuck is wrong with you…pathetic…_

Lara mumbled grudgingly, “maybe…I dunno.”

She could feel a sigh tumbling around Ray’s chest and she knew he and Lily would probably be exchanging an anxious, knowing look.

“Look, I just wanna sleep right now,” Lara grumbled, annoyance at her two friends starting to buzz. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Fine,” said Ray sternly, “but you’re not getting out of it.”

“Fine.”

She felt the warmth leave her as Ray and Lily got up, traipsed towards the door, and clicked it shut behind them, leaving Lara alone with her whirring thoughts. Of course, she wasn’t ever going to admit right then what “siras” meant, and having blacked out Lara was guessing herself, but, she thought grimly, she had a pretty good idea.

It was the 9th September 1976, eight days since she’d been back at Hogwarts for her sixth year. She had foolishly thought the summer would have stayed in the summer. But instead, she could still smell the heat rising off the tarmac as they whizzed over on their bikes, her smirking smugly as she pedalled with no hands, remembering how the glint in his eye looked like the sun came from inside it, reflecting a pale imitation into the cloudless blue.

Her mind strayed further down her memories, landing on that unassuming mid-August day of their meet cute.


	6. Late Summer, 1976

The day had started innocuously enough. Lara had awoken in her room in the abandoned Victorian school she still maintained a residence in, mouth full of sleep, the high white ceilings sliding into focus. Strips of white sun punctuated the dark amber glow. An already burnt quality to the air. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand: 7:03am. _May as well get up_. Swinging her legs off the bed, she picked up the half-smoked joint lounging in the ashtray by the clock, brushing it back and forth along her lips until it found its usual trough. She scanned the room for a lighter. Small inconveniences that would dissolve once she could do magic outside of school. Being muggle-born, an orphan, and emancipated from any guardian-like wizarding figure, a process that had been mysteriously sorted for her by Dumbledore, her summers were mostly non-magic. She didn’t mind this really; although the wizarding world was her home, she found the muggle world colourful and exciting.

Cracking the night’s sleep out of her bones, Lara ambled over to the opposite wall. Five tall arched windows, a long red linen. Bitter smoke curling in her lungs. As she pulled the wide curtain open, the strips of white began dissolving into a bright block until the spacious room was flooded with morning sun, illuminating the varied pot plants, empty beer cans and musical instruments that littered the room. Clambering up one of the open windows, Lara breathed in the view over Camden town. Beeps and hollers peppered the air, long snakes of cars and trams wound their way through the sunny streets. Despite the glittering scene, Lara felt a gnawing listlessness that often came in the summer when the days blended into one solitary sentence. She saw friends, of course: dinners at Lily’s or Marlene’s; smoke ups with Ray and Jigs in the park; band practice; evenings where someone or another filled her room, where they drank and played guitar and crowded round her old television watching films. She also worked her way through her summer rent; modelling, bar jobs, odd ends. But she lived alone, and she felt alone. These were the days that were hardest for her sobriety. The urge to take a pill that would soften the creases could be all consuming. If she was in a good headspace, she might find herself at a _Narcotics Anonymous_ meeting or amid a contrived project.

Sometimes, she gave in to that hunger for nothingness.

 _Go for a skate_ , she thought curtly, gritting her teeth. Trudging into the bathroom, she slammed the door, plunging herself into total darkness. _Just get dressed, pick up your skateboard, and walk out the door. You’ll feel fine when you’re out. You can even try landing that switch grind today…_

Lara clutched the sink until her knuckles turned white, breath moving in and out in shuddering gasps. She shook her head violently and punched on the light, throwing her face into sharp relief in the mirror. She had shaved her head over the summer and often got too stoned to make dinner; cheekbones and hollow eyes stared back at her under the jet-black hair that was now just long enough to spike up.

“Don’t be a pussy,” she huffed into the mirror with a grim determination.

~

Fifteen minutes later, she was cruising down Camden road to the skatepark in baggy jeans, the waistband of some Calvin Klein boxers peeking out, the light wind ruffling her hair, her t-shirt rippling in the already searing sunlight. Horns honked at her as she weaved in and out of cars laughing. She had just flipped up on the pavement opposite the park when,

“Love! Lara! Hey!”

Grinding the skateboard around, her eyes landed on a tall figure with elegantly messy dark hair and pale skin. 

“Oh, Sirius? Hey! What – um –” She grinned confusedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I live in the area and just felt like a walk – well, technically I live more Islington way – but still, I – er – do,” he finished lamely, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Oh…cool, I never knew.” (Random didn't even cut it.)

“Yeah…so – er – what are _you_ doing here then?” he jested, confidence creeping back into his voice.

“Ahh, I also live in the area – _actually_ in this area – “ She grinned. “And woke up early feeling like a skate.”

Sirius frowned down at the skateboard she was patting, scratching his chin. “Yes…I was wondering what this was. It looked pretty dangerous on the roads just now, I swear that muggle nearly ran you over on purpose.”

Lara chuckled. “Yeah, people can get fairly irate. It’s really fun though, you can do all sorts of tricks on it if you practice enough. It’s a muggle sport, obviously, but I think it’s great –”

Sirius was still scratching his chin almost absentmindedly as she babbled on, staring into her eyes with such an unwavering intensity that she felt a little taken aback.

“I’m intrigued,” he said after a pause, “if it wouldn’t be a drag to your day, could I come and watch you?”

Lara hesitated. She wasn’t too sure whether she wanted to be surveyed with such interest today, and for some reason she felt vaguely nervous in Sirius’ presence. She met his eyes again, stumped once more by the continuing potency of their gaze, only to realise with a puzzling flutter in her chest that his eyes really were a mysteriously stormy grey.

“Um…okay sure, why not,” she said slowly.

A wolfish set of teeth gleamed at her. “Brilliant! I owe you one, had absolutely nothing to do today.”

“No problem,” she said politely, and they crossed the road to the park. “Be warned though, I’ll be leaving you alone to skate and – er – you better like grass, or at least the smell of it, ‘cause skaters are major pot heads.”

Sirius snorted. “Don’t worry darling, I think I can handle myself.”

Both approached the park laughing. Greetings from similarly early risers were shouted Lara’s way.

“Alright boys.” She smirked, saluting coolly with two fingers.

Not wanting to wait for Sirius to settle himself, she jumped on the board and began warming up around the park. She was good, she knew that. She had the kind of reckless confidence needed to manoeuvre through a male heavy community that required a woman be better in order to be accepted. In that regard, she was lucky she often got obsessive over activities to maintain her sobriety. After landing a particularly impressive trick to raucous approval, Lara rolled over to the raised concrete slab where Sirius was sitting, sprawled beside him, and proceeded to roll a cigarette.

“Well?” She panted.

Sirius blew out a puff of air indignantly. “Well, where in the fuck did you learn to do that?!”

Lara laughed. “Oh, you know, around,” she said casually, shrugging her shoulders.

“Oh yes, _around_ , I see, great conversation,” retorted Sirius.

Lara sniggered even harder, tobacco spilling on the ground, legs akimbo. 

“Okay, okay, be calm – erm – I learnt when I was about nine or ten. I’d just moved into the place I live now and a bunch of skaters were squatting. One of them gave me their old board and the rest is history, I guess." She ran the cigarette over her lips, searching. "I still remember the first hill I bombed; by the end of the day I was covered in blood, but man" - she kissed her fingers and flung them away - "I’d never felt better.”

Smiling reminiscently, she puffed on her now lit cigarette before passing it with pleasant surprise to Sirius’ asking hand.

“You’re a lunatic, you know that right?”

“You’re not wrong, Black, you’re not wrong”

Their laughter echoed around the park, left hanging in the summer air like heat and glitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First flashback, hope whats been written so far is interesting to literally anyone. So yes, she's a skater/prescription drug addict/self-sufficient bad bitch tbh. Sirius' character development will increase. There'll be more Hogwarts and more summer flashbacks. Hope the chapters aren't too short, I'd rather split time periods up for ease of navigating through the story. piece.


	7. Early Autumn, 1976

It had been three days since her black out and Lara was sauntering down the empty corridor to go and meet Jigs at their smoking spot. They had both skipped first period. She was avoiding Ray and Lily; Jigs was just lazy. She didn’t need the angst – she was fine, she’d flushed the pills. _Except one_ , she thought. But that was for emergencies. Stomping her heavy boots down the stone steps into the entrance hall, she glanced around furtively for teachers before slipping out the front doors into the grounds.

“Here she is!” Jigs cheered in his vibrant, goofy voice as she rounded the corner. “Got past Flitwick I see.”

“To be honest I haven’t said anything, I’ve just not turned up,” she admitted ruefully. 

“Ahh, Flitwick will be fine, he probably thinks you’re working on your next great song or something!”

Lara snorted. “I’m not quite sure that’s an entirely accurate observation.” Although she knew Flitwick held a soft spot for her, having convinced Dumbledore to allocate a classroom and fill it with musical instruments for any inclined students upon her bequest in first year. 

“Oh, shut up, modesty doesn’t work on you,” Jigs teased.

He was tall and caramel skinned, cheekbones sharp like Lara's, lips two feather-downed pillows, incongruously blue eyes. He often had his hair cropped in a low fade that exacerbated his chiselled jaw, claiming, “that 70’s ‘fro just don’t work on me man.”

It was he who had shaved Lara’s head for her in the summer: Ray’s family home in Brixton, the small tiled bathroom, a bottle of Lemon Hart Rum half empty under the sink. Ray had found them giggling uncontrollably, a look of exasperated amusement on his face, as Jigs had shaved everything but Lara’s fringe. Although the boys were equal in age, Ray had always been the patriarch of their whole group. Big, dark, and dreadlocked, he often attracted nervous stares, which Lara found funny but frustrating, as she had never meant anyone as caring as Ray. That was why he and Lily got along so well: two kind souls with endless empathy. The rest of them clowned around too much. 

Lara and Jigs smoked for a while in silence, surveying the grounds.

“Oh, by the way." Jigs cocked an eyebrow her way. "Ray’s asked me to tell you that he ‘hasn’t forgotten’ and that he wants to talk to you.” 

Lara sighed. “Tell him I’m fine and that I’m not in the mood.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s nothing, Jigs, honestly, I _may_ have taken a few benzos on a bottle of whiskey and I _may_ have passed out in the toilets, but hey, what’s new.” She shrugged, as Jigs laughed. “I flushed them all anyway, momentary blip,” she added.

“Ahh don’t worry, I trust you, I’ll get Ray off your back.” He grinned. “I think he thinks we egg each other on with this stuff. ’Bout time _I_ have another meltdown to be honest, think you’re beating me like 7-4.”

“I did _not_ have a meltdown.”

“Okay, sorry” – Jigs lifted both index and middle fingers to either side of his face and flicked them down – “ _relapse._ ”

“I will literally strangle you.”

Jigs sniggered and spluttered over the joint at her deadpan expression. After a while, his amusement died out, and they continued comfortably smoking in silence.

“Do you miss Kurt?” he asked. The joint was half gone now. “His band’s getting pretty popular, they released that record – _Nevermind_ – it’s decent.”

“Yeah, and I wrote about four songs on it,” she griped.

Lara and Kurt had broken up towards the end of her fifth year when she wanted to properly focus on her band. Kurt had thrown a tantrum, exclaiming that under no circumstances could she be a frontwoman _and_ a drummer, and that she had to pick between his band and hers. _Well_ , Lara thought wryly, _came as a bit of a shock to him when I dumped his arse_.

“Not really though.” Lara shrugged. “Only someone to make noise with; all I have is Nood left now, the funk got the rest of you.”

Jigs laughed. “Damn straight! Speaking of, I got some bars for you. I was thinking maybe we could mix it over that new song by Heatwave, ‘ _Boogie Nights' ?_ ”

Lara exhaled the smoke, nodding vigorously. “Holy shit yes, that song is _literal_ genius. The funk almost got _me_ when I heard that!”

She grinned. Jigs had started rocking his hips, crooning in parody, flipping lyrics into the profane.

“Ha! You speak to your mama with that mouth?”

But she gave in, gyrating, lost in his tinny warble, until her eye caught his crotch thrusting vigorously into the air.

“Merlin! Enough! I don’t need any more of your cock in my face!” she exclaimed, wiping tears of laughter. “Just recite the fucking bars already.”

“Alright! Alright! This is prime real estate over here, but whatever. And the correct word is _spit_ , Lara, _spit_ the fucking bars, this ain’t a church service. I need a beat – oh – and pass the spliff first.”

Lara cupped her hands over her mouth and began beatboxing as Jigs smoked for a bit, eyes closed, feeling the beat.

“Slower…yeah, that’s it…

“Something sinister to it  
Pendulum swinging slower, degenerate moving  
Through the city with criminal stealth  
Welcome to enemy turf, harder than Azkaban dirt  
Muggle stitched into my shirt

Get up off the pavement  
Brush the dirt up off my psyche…

It's probably been twelve years since my father left  
Left me fatherless  
And I just used to say I hate him in dishonest jest  
When honestly I miss this wizard like when I was six  
And every time I got the chance to say it I would swallow it

Sixteen, I'm hollow, intolerant, skip shots  
I storm that whole bottle, I'll show you a role model  
Drunk pissy pissing on somebody front lawn  
Trying to figure out how and when the fuck I missed moderate

Momma often was offering peace offerings  
Think, wheeze cough, scoffing and he's off again  
Searching for a big brother, Ray Tyler was that  
Plus he liked how I rap, the blunted vice with no map

Too black for the white kids and too white for the blacks  
From honor roll to bumming smokes off all the ignorant whacks  
I'm indecisive, I'm scatterbrained and I'm frightened it's evident  
In them eyes where he hiding all them icicles at.”

Jigs finished, but before Lara could even voice her admiration a voice behind them said softly, “wow…”

They turned around with a start to see Sirius Black leaning against the wall, arms folded, looking at Jigs in amazement.

“That was seriously good!” he said earnestly.

“Oh, er, thanks man.” Jigs smiled in bemusement. “Didn’t even see you there, haha…”

“Yes.” Lara cleared her throat, having just located her voice. “What _are_ you doing there?”

“Always questioning my whereabouts, Lara,” he responded playfully, “I was just going for a walk, as Lara knows I enjoy” – Jigs was looking even more bemused now – “and by chance happened upon you both. May I?” he asked, pointing to the joint.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” said Jigs blankly, and as Sirius stood with his back to them, smoking, and looking out onto the grounds, he mouthed, “Sirius Black smokes?!”

Lara shrugged. Obviously, she knew he did; they had smoked numerous times together towards the end of summer. But she hadn’t mentioned this to anyone. Instead, she’d taken these moments and hidden them under her bed. Little trinkets to appraise during sleeping hours. She was already one of the most gossiped about students at Hogwarts, and she couldn’t be bothered to piss off Black’s fan club of simpering girls.

Sirius turned to face them. “So, was that like a poem? Or a song?”

“Both, to be honest,” responded Jigs, “a spoken song is probably most accurate, but the actual word for what I was doing is _rapping_ , that was a _rap._ ”

Sirius looked puzzled, so Jigs continued. “In the muggle world, mainly in the black community, people get together, put Jamaican beats on the turntables – like a gramophone – and speak, or _rap_ , over the beat. _To rap_ actually means to discuss or debate, so usually people rap social commentaries on politics or prejudices..."

Jigs continued to animatedly explain rapping to a genuinely interested Sirius, who asked numerous follow up questions, one to which Jigs burst back excitedly:

“Well, see that’s the really fucking exciting thing! In New York right now there’s this whole subculture of spoken word over funk and disco! I have a cousin out there, from the muggle side, and he writes me all the time about what’s happening, sends me records...“

Although Jigs was half-blood, his father had left when he was a kid, so he was raised by his Jamaican mother in Hackney. Lara, Jigs and Ray all lived in London, all muggle-born or raised in one way or another. Lara watched Sirius’ eager face as he conversated. He hadn’t ever tried to get to know her friends outside of their year before, yet here he was, by chance _…yeah right,_ she thought, with a sickeningly hopeful jolt in her stomach _._

The bell echoed distantly.

“Well,” said Lara loudly, “lovely speaking to you Black, but we must be going, can’t miss two classes now, can we Jigs?” She looked at Jig’s expectantly, who yawned back at her.

“Might just nap until lunch actually, Lara.”

“I can walk you to class, we’re in the same one after all,” Sirius offered with a wink.

“Yeah, go with Sirius, I’ll see you guys later.” Jigs waved and traipsed off in the opposite direction, leaving them alone.

“Well, we best pick up the pace, Love. Can’t be late or, Merlin forbid, miss the class, both being such model students after all,” said Sirius in a soft, mocking voice, as they ambled back up the grounds. “You know, I’m genuinely surprised you weren’t awarded prefect this year.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, grinning in spite of herself.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t want to hang out with me,” said Sirius sternly.

She surveyed her nails. “Not a clue what you’re talking about, mate.”

Sirius chuckled but, placing a hand on her wrist, pulled her to a stop. “For real, Love...I’ve sort of felt like you’ve been avoiding me since we got back. I mean…I don’t want to not hang out with you now that we’re back at school. I had fun in the summer…I thought you did too?”

His eyes searched her face, and for a rare moment she saw a nervous boy staring back at her. So, it had come with them up north then. She let herself relax into the smile she had started to become accustomed to in his presence.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you, sometimes that’s just kind of my M.O. until someone calls me out on it…probably why people tend to think I’m a bitch.” She laughed. “I would like to still hang out as well, Black.”

“Sweet!” Sirius grinned. “And people don’t really think you’re a bitch, everyone just wants to be your friend, but you’re far too cool for school, literally.”

Lara grimaced derisively. "Think you're talking about yourself there, mate."

“Oi, maybe we can even get James and Lily together now we’re _proper_ friends!”

“Less likely,” scoffed Lara.

Sirius shrugged. “Just a thought. He’s not that bad, you know.”

“I don’t think he’s bad at all, he just needs to calm it with Lily.”

“Persistence can pay off.”

“Yeah, for serial killers,” she retorted, mildly exasperated, “I swear, you guys never get it.”

“We get some things,” Sirius muttered, frowning.

Lara glanced sideways. He looked momentarily pensive, but as they rounded the corner to Transfiguration, a gaggle of classmates lining up outside in wait, his face changed into its usual haughty smirk and he made a beeline for James and the others. Lara shook her head, contemplating the mystifying world of man, and approached Lily and Marlene who were deep in chat.

“– and he literally said, ‘that was one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever had’, and now has the audacity – _the audacity_ – to ignore me,” Marlene fumed, brushing her curly hair out of her face.

“Ahem, what is this I’m hearing? Trouble in paradise?” taunted Lara loftily.

Marlene held up her hand, her eyes flashing. “Please, you don’t even know the half of it! That fucking piece of crust! That indiscriminate _crumb_ of a human being, jam for brains, limp dick motherfucker…” Marlene trailed off angrily as Lara and Lily bent over howling.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Lily hiccoughed, “I think just forget about him Marlene, there’s nothing you can do, he’s just an arsehole.”

Lara looked at her in surprise. “Nothing she can do?! Jheeze, put spiders in the boy’s bed or something! Don’t just take it lying down!”

Marlene nodded vigorously. “I’m with Lara on this Lil's.”

“Fiiine.” Lily sighed. “But I’m not helping you, I refuse to be involved.”

Lara shot her hand into the air. “I volunteer! For womenkind everywhere!”

“ALL ABOARD THE BRATMOBILE!” her and Marlene cheered together, collapsing into more giggles until McGonagall’s stern voice pulled them out of their reverie.

At the other end of the line, Sirius had been staring at Lara as she conversed energetically with her friends. A strange feeling wriggled in his stomach. Restlessness. Cacoethes. He grunted noises of assent at whatever James was gesticulating about, mulling over summer moments in his mind. As he filed into the classroom, took a seat at the back next to James and stared blankly at McGonagall, who was describing today's lesson, he found himself lost in August.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song lyrics are slightly modified version of Chum by Earl Sweatshirt - I ain't that talented lol


	8. Late Summer, 1976

It was hot. Damn it was hot. Sirius had awoken in his room of number 12 Grimmauld place a couple of hours ago, bored and lonely. James and Remus were both on holiday with their parents and Peter was grounded for the entire summer due to his abysmal OWL results. It was nearing three o’clock and thirty-three degrees. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, beads of sweat running down his chest, pooling in his bellybutton. He moved over to the window and pushed it open fully, resting his elbows on the sill and surveying the square. The tall plants and bushes bordered by railings in the middle swayed drunkenly and a pile of bin bags oozed a putrid sweetness. Sirius could hear distant sounds behind him in the dark house, but he ignored them. He was waiting for its inhabitants to vacate the lower floors so he could slip out unassumingly. It was too cumbersome to think of an excuse that wouldn’t arouse suspicion that he was venturing out into the muggle world. He knew no one would check on him if they thought him home. That was what he’d done yesterday, and with a startling surprise had ran into Lara Love speeding along on a strange plank with wheels. He smiled slightly, remembering the laughter and exhilaration that had filled the day as he followed Lara and her friends around, graffitiing walls, skating (or attempting to on his part), and getting chased by muggle policemen with whistles. By the evening, he had dragged himself home, soul full of mirth and head so thick with beer he had almost tripped over the umbrella stand as he stumbled down the hall.

Although she had said he could ‘come hang anytime’, he hadn’t exactly asked her whether she wanted to hang out today and he had no clue where she might be. Regardless, the thought of spending another day inside made Sirius’ skin itch. So, he had decided to head to the skatepark in hope. Sensing movement into the bedrooms, he shut the window, cracked open his door, and trickled down the stairs and out of the house.

The heat slammed into him as he stepped into the square, the dim austerity of Grimmauld place leaving dark spots on his vision as he blinked against the sun. He strode swiftly away without a backward glance at the door he knew would be sliding out of sight. _Left…right…. third left?_ He brushed his curls out of his eyes, frustratedly trying to recall the route he had taken yesterday that had led him to her. Being from priggish purebloods, he hadn't explored the muggle world much before this summer. Even visits with his friends tended to happen at James’, who was also from a wizarding family. The thought of his friends sent a bitter sadness through him. He knew it wasn’t their fault they were away, but he couldn’t help feeling resentful at their loving families and his lack thereof.

Sirius continued walking, letting his muscles decide the route, keenly observing the world around him. Three wrong turns and one backtrack later, he finally turned onto Camden road in relief as a roar sounded to his left and a leather-clad muggle on a motorcycle screeched up the hill, gnarled steel glinting in the sun. Sirius watched the Harley Davidson pass enviously; there was nothing he wanted more in the world than to own one. He remembered how he had procured a leather jacket and Doc Martens after he had found that muggle magazine in fourth year.

Crossing the road to the skatepark, he scanned the concrete shapes, but no reckless smile flashed out at him from among the languid individuals. He felt the hope wash down his chest and pool around his feet in disappointment. He might have been walking through treacle. Searching for a lifeline, he finally spotted one of Lara’s friends from yesterday lounging in the shade. He darted through the men whooshing up and down the concrete and raised a hand in a greeting.

“Heyy, Timbo is it? We met yesterday…Sirius?” He pointed to himself. “Sorry if I’m bothering, I was just wondering if you knew where Lara was today?”

Timbo looked up in slow surprise. Sirius could tell he was stoned.

“Oh…yeah man, yeah man, ‘course, everyone’s welcome here, no bother, no bother…” Timbo trailed off in his slow sleepy voice, leaving them in silence.

“Um, so…Lara?” Sirius repeated amusedly after a pause. Timbo appeared to have vacated planet earth for a moment.

“Oh shit! yeah man, yeah man, sorry, totally forgot what you said for a second there.” He guffawed goofily. “Erm, not sure, but someone might know…” His voice had slowed down as he searched the park, and Sirius was worried he would forget his train of thought again until he suddenly hollered so loudly that Sirius started. “OI RICKY! COME ‘ERE!”

A small slim Asian boy rolled over to them. “What’s up, Tim?” he asked in a reedy voice.

“Sirius wants to know where Lara is today, was thinking you might know?”

Ricky stood with one hand on his hip, staring at nothing. The ponderous leisure was starting to grate on Sirius, who was stone cold sober.

“I think,” said Ricky slowly, “she’s working at Denny’s today. It’s over by Camden Market. If you go under the bridge by the old part and keep going, it’s on the corner near Chalk Farm.”

“Sweet, thanks.”

“No problem,” said Ricky, already skating off.

Only just realising he had no clue which way Camden Market was, he turned nervously to Timbo. “Umm…which way am I going?”

Timbo looked up again, dimly perplexed. “Uh, down the hill man, chuck a right at Camden station and just follow the road…”

“Cheers.” Sirius shot him a grin and sped off, thinking maybe he should have explained better why he had lived in London his whole life, as he told them yesterday, but didn’t know where he was going. He took some comfort in the fact that Timbo was unlikely to remember the specifics of their exchange beyond the next half an hour.

Walking through Camden Town felt like being at a bizarre festival. People of all shapes, sizes, creeds, and colours were crowding the streets: mods in monochrome; preachers wearing sandwich boards, dreadlocks piled high on their heads; leather-clad men and women with metal in their faces and foot long mohawks. _People here look more magical than wizards,_ he thought bemusedly, as his eyes followed a young woman in a purple pointed hat and dramatic eyeliner. He continued walking in the blazing heat, eventually spotting the dive bar with tubed 3D lettering reading _Denny’s_. He slowed, peering through the open windows, and his heart jumped into his mouth. There she was. Behind the bar, slender hands turning the pages of a book, totally beguiled by it. Sirius hesitated, staring at her. He hadn’t planned what to say once he’d gotten to this point. _Don’t be a pussy_ , he thought determinedly, and walked slowly inside the trendily shabby establishment and took a seat at the end of the bar.

Lara hadn’t noticed. She was still immersed in the book that Sirius could now see said _L'Étranger_ , _par Albert Camus_ on the cover. He studied her intensely as she read, and his lips quirked into a smile. She was wearing a skin-tight disco two-piece in a check pattern, and had separated her hair into similarly tiny squares, each section gelled into a spike. Sirius feasted his eyes on her face, her lips, her exposed midriff hungrily, not often afforded the opportunity at Hogwarts.

“Would you like a signed photograph?” she asked snidely, eyes still on her book, making Sirius jump.

“Oh – er – sorry, I was just – er – I just didn’t want to disturb you…by talking…” he trailed off.

“So, you thought you’d try and converse with me through your retinas,” she sneered, slapping the book shut and moving to stand in front of him, “after turning up at my work without me having told you where it was, or even that I had a job – I mean, we’re not exactly _friends_ at school, Black – this is all a bit weird.”

Her eyes bored into his and he stared back, the backs of his ears beginning to burn.

“Look,” he said, throat dry, “I – uh – didn’t mean to – “ but before he could finish, her face relaxed into an amused grin and she punched him on the shoulder playfully.

“I’m fucking with you, Black, calm down.”

His own mouth broke into a wide grin of relief and he laughed loudly. “Jheeze, Love, you got me sweating over here!” as he tugged his collar to try and circulate some air.

“What can I get you? On the house.” She winked.

“Erm, Firewhiskey?” he asked hopefully.

Lara shook her head. “Muggle bar, man,” she said quietly, “but I can give you muggle whiskey. We'll start with a rye, it’s good, trust me.” She proceeded to pour some into a tumbler in front of him.

Sirius sniffed over the rim and heady aromas of sweet wood and citrus met his nostrils. He took a sip. The amber liquid exploded on his tongue.

“That’s good, wow!” Sirius nodded, smacking his lips in appreciation, feeling the familiar warmth settle any disquietude.

Lara smiled, poured herself one, and started polishing glasses.

“So, do muggles come of age at sixteen then?” he asked.

Lara shook her head. “Eighteen.”

“How are you able to work and drink here then?” 

“Oh, Denny doesn’t really care.” She chuckled. “He’d rather hire cheap labour, like Julio over there.” She nodded in the direction of a squat Hispanic-looking man wiping tables. “Doesn’t speak a word of English, sweet man though.” She shrugged and began stacking the glasses. “Plus I’ve got a fake ID – a card muggles carry around with their details on – in case any cops turn up. Works well for me, working in a bar that is – I earn double what Denny pays me in tips and I can drink for free.”

“Pretty sweet deal,” Sirius conceded.

“One sec,” muttered Lara, and she went over to serve some customers who had approached the bar.

Sirius watched her interacting cheerfully with the clientele for a while, admiring the agility with which she poured multiple drinks at a time. The door swung open and a group of rowdy young women entered. Lara glanced at them and punched a button which rang a distant chiming sound. Almost immediately, a middle-aged man with a large belly and long grey hair, that Sirius assumed to be Denny, appeared from a back door and began serving them. The most boisterous looking of the group, a plump blonde, pushed her way to the front next to Sirius.

“Can you make me a Grasshopper?”

“Oh my god, _no Kiera_ , that’s like cake in a glass. I may as well just give up on my diet at that point,” one of her friends retorted nasally.

“Oooh,” another exclaimed wide-eyed, “what about a sex on the beach?”

They all gushed in agreement, squealing at Denny for the same, who, Sirius noticed sniggering, was looking more mortified by the second at the presence of the demanding young ladies in his bar.

“Five sex on the beaches, please,” said Kiera, and then, eyeing Sirius, added boldly, “make that six, one for the lonely gentleman here.”

Denny grunted in assent, moving into action with surprising speed.

“Cool, thanks sweetheart,” he said, flashing her a grin.

“No problem, handsome. What brings you round these ways?”

“Oh, just visiting my friend.” He pointed at Lara who was currently lighting a line of shots on fire.

Kiera looked over her shoulder and he saw her eyes narrow slightly, but the look disappeared as fast as it came, and she turned back to him, all teeth and pink lips.

“Well, looks like she’s busy right now. Why don’t you hang out with us for a bit?” Kiera had begun walking her fingers up his chest, staring soppily into his eyes.

He closed his hand over hers and gave it back to her. “I’m just fine right here, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” She raised an eyebrow, looking offended.

“Quite sure.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and stalked off after her friends, shooting Lara a reproachful look, who had come back over to where Sirius was sitting.

“Making friends?”

“You know me, social butterfly.” He took a sip of the drink Kiera had bought him and almost gagged. “Oh my god, that’s vile.”

“What is it?” Lara frowned.

“A sex on the beach, so I’m told. But I’ve never tasted anything that made me want to have sex less.”

Lara laughed. “Oh yeah, that shits disgusting. The people that order it are trash.”

“It just tastes like sugar, which makes me question the sanity of one girl who ordered it despite saying she didn’t want a drink that was like liquid cake.” Sirius shook his head, baffled. “Is there even any alcohol in it?”

Lara looked surprised. “Yeah, there’s shit loads. Don’t let it fool you, it’s sweet but lethal.”

Sirius looked down at the drink with renewed interest. Shrugging, he took a large gulp, then a second, and finally downed the rest on a third. Eyes streaming, he slammed the glass down on the bar.

Lara was staring at him in amusement. “Feeling a bit nihilistic today, are we?”

“You betcha,” he coughed, returning her gaze.

They continued staring at each other in silence for a moment and something swelled between them, something potent and forceful. Lara absentmindedly began tracing her mouth, still holding his gaze. Sirius could feel his pulse quickening, having thought before about those lips on him. She broke the moment, turning to shout over her shoulder about a cigarette break. Turning back to Sirius, who felt vaguely out of breath, she said, “you coming?”

After being below the ceiling fans, the heat felt like a tight sweater. Dusk was approaching and the sky was striped in pink and gold. Sirius and Lara leant against the outside windows and smoked, watching the passing crowds swell and dissipate and swell again; colourful waves, individual moons. 

“So, why did you come down to my work today anyway?” Lara blew a smoke ring into the air and Sirius watched it grow, split, then fade into the sky.

“I was bored again, just had to get out the house…I asked down at the skatepark for you and they sent me here.”

Lara nodded slowly. “That’s cool.” She blew another smoke ring and watched its journey thoughtfully. “What about your friends? James? Remus? Petey boy?”

“Pete's grounded and the other two are both on holiday with their families.”

Lara looked at him. There was something about the way he said it, an almost indecipherable bitterness in his voice that made Lara wonder what lay beneath the cool exterior.

She probed further. “No holiday with yours?”

Sirius laughed grimly. “As if.”

“Well…why not?”

“Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically, “they can’t stand being in the same room as me, their _huge_ disappointment, but I’m sure they’d adore me when there’s sun, sea and sand. Maybe even chuck in a Gigglewater or two.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, we can talk about something different.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not like it's new. Being sorted into Gryffindor reinforced the whole disappointment thing” – Sirius frowned into the distance – “but it’s always kind of been there...basically they think muggles are vermin, everyone should be in Slytherin, and pure-bloods are royalty, and I _don’t_...so...they don’t talk to me anymore. They literally ignore me if I walk past them at home, and if we ever do talk it usually ends in a violent argument. Therefore, no.” Sirius looked at her stiffly. “No holiday with my family.”

Lara let out a low whistle. “Well, Black, I had no idea. Here I’ve always been thinking you had a pretty cushty life - riches, all that jazz - but that’s hard. Parental issues are _hard_. I would really struggle to live around that kind of bigotry." She smiled at him. "You’re brave.”

His expression relaxed slightly. “Thanks Love, nice to have your vote of confidence.” He took a drag on his cigarette. "So, what’s your story? Any holidays with your parents?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, no holidays, no parents. I live alone, work to pay my rent, skate, drink, smoke, skate.” She chuckled to herself.

“Oh...do you mind me asking...?"

Lara stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, made her eyes go cross-eyed and flopped her neck over to one side. “Dead.”

Sirius' eyes widened. “Oh shit, Lara, I’m really sorry.”

“At least, I think my mum is anyway,” she babbled on, ignoring his condolences, “my dad’s definitely dead, but my mum left a couple of years before that and I never heard from her again, so I’m just working on the assumption that she’s worm food.”

Sirius looked at her sadly. “How come I never knew this? I thought you had a normal family life as well...”

“Not many people know, only those I’m close with. I don’t think it’s always smart to advertise your business, especially in these times.”

Sirius and Lara exchanged a knowing look. A dark wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort had been steadily rising in power over the last decade, and tensions were escalating to an all time high as more people disappeared and more people turned up dead.

“That’s what pisses me off so much,” said Sirius quietly, “my parents think _he’s_ got it right, that _his_ world is the one we ought to be living in.”

Lara snorted. “Well, I’d be chucked in Azkaban or killed straight away if that were the case.”

He looked at her intently. “That’s not funny. These things are already happening.”

Lara sighed wearily. “ _Nolite te bastardes carborundorum_. We’ll be ready when they come for us, but for now I’ve gotta get back inside.” She flicked her cigarette into the street and walked into the bar.

Sirius took a final drag, the keen heat on his fingers, not entirely sure what she had said. But he had heard _bastard_ in there somewhere, so he figured he understood. He was about to head in, but he paused. There was a young child, on the other side of the street, laughing and running away from his mother, who was pretending to chase him. The child tripped and the laughter turned to tears, which turned to laughter again, as the mother hugged and consoled and bounced the baby boy. Sirius watched, wistful; an exhibition of all the experiences he never had with his mother, at all the times he wanted to be held by her but was met with cold indifference, all the times he would find something else, or in his older life someone else, to hold in her place. He watched the family for a short moment more, before walking in the bar after Lara.

The rest of the evening passed in a whirl as the bar crowded out with noisy clientele and the music was cranked up. Lara and Denny were dancing up and down the bar, bottles flying, the cash register battering the evening with endless rings. Sirius’ glass seemed to never reach bottom, any remaining dregs disappearing into fresh pours, so that by the end of the night, when Lara had kicked the last of the customers out, their singing echoing down the street, his entire body was buzzing.

Lara sat down next to him and took three shots in a row. “Ready to go in a minute?”

Sirius turned clumsily to look at her. “Y’know, this is kind’ weird.”

“What’s weird?” she asked, a smile playing around her mouth.

“This…us.” Sirius flicked a finger between him and Lara rapidly. “We don’ hang out a’ school, you don’ seem to like me tha’ much there, which I don’ get coz I’m fabulous, but this cool, you cool…” he trailed off, facing forward again, and Lara giggled.

She stacked the shot glasses and reached over to put them behind the bar before turning to him. 

“Fabulousness aside,” she said slowly, “I’ve found you and James, etcetera, somewhat annoying sure, but mainly we don’t hang out because of the whole James and Lily thing. She’s not a fan of him to put it lightly, and he doesn’t make things easier for himself, so, you know, shit just worked out that way...I don't _not_ like you.”

Sirius frowned. “Fucken James, why’d he do tha’…I wan’ friends with you.”

Lara stood up, grinning. “Come on playboy, let’s get you home.”

“I’m not goin’ home!” He stood up and staggered to the door, using his whole body to push it open, and tripped over his feet out into the street.

Lara chuckled and followed him. “Okay, where do you live? I’ll walk you back.”

“NO! Not goin’! Not goin’!” Sirius’ hands were clenched in fists by his side, and Lara was amusedly reminded of a child in a tantrum.

“Okay, whatever, I’m not gonna fight you on it, you can sleep on my couch.” She started walking up the road, sipping a beer she’d snagged from the bar, and Sirius tottered after her.

Twenty-five minutes later, and after repeated corralling of a drunk Sirius who had scampered off enthusiastically into many muggle establishments, they arrived at the abandoned Victorian school Lara took up residence in. Faded yellow lettering above the wrought iron gates read ‘ _Forster’s Elementary Facility’_. They walked through the playground; shrieks and cackles filtering out a high up window, aggressive music pulsing out of another. The unmistakable noise of breaking glass sounded distantly and a cat streaked across the stone floor and into a smashed door. The shadows were crooked. Lara led Sirius through the door after the cat, down some dark halls, and up three flights of stairs that had graffiti over the walls. They eventually approached a large black door with four different types of locks sealing one side. Despite the warm summer air, Sirius felt uneasy. He furtively glanced up the corridor, but his eyes couldn’t penetrate the tar-like darkness.

“Wha’s the point in bein' a dog if I can’t have canine vision when I wan',” he slurred under his breath.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Lara's voice sounded breezy, but Sirius felt her body tense an almost infinitesimal amount to what he had just said. _She can’t have heard, that was so quiet_ … _I am drunk though_. He bit his lip anxiously.

“Nothin’, only, ‘sit always this dark in here? Bit scary…”

“It’s the only place I’ve ever felt at home.”

After fiddling with the locks, Lara eventually pushed open the door and Sirius stumbled into the darkness after her. She began lighting lamps and candles, slowly bathing the room in a warm golden glow. Without looking back at him, she walked towards the bathroom and locked the door. Sirius heard the faucet turn on, the sound of gushing water. He walked towards the designated living room area; a large brown leather couch facing the direction which they had entered, two love seats in pink and green, a box television set on wheels, and a triangular glass coffee table with avant-garde sculpted legs. He plopped down on the couch, staring around the room. It was the size of a primary school hall and not at all like its dismal exterior. In the corner opposite Sirius stood a grand piano nestled amidst various other instruments, some lining the walls. Large and leafy pot plants cluttered the room, giving a tropical ambience; stout and spiky cacti rested on the deep windowsills. Five long arched panes of glass. Posters and pictures punctuated the walls artfully, Sirius recognising some muggle films like _‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’_ and _‘Carrie’_. Sirius turned his head to the right and spotted Lara’s bed. Soft pillows and pastel colours. He eyed it temptingly, the feeling of lethargy deepening with every glance. _Fuck it,_ he thought, and throwing caution to the wind he kicked off his shoes and socks, stumbled to the bed, smooshed his face into the pillows, and sank into a dreamless sleep.

~

Over in the bathroom, Lara was showering off the bar shift, deep in thought. _Get a grip, Love, why are you nervous? It’s Sirius Black – man whore of the century and an arrogant arse last time you checked…well, maybe that’s a bit harsh, but he’s never really been in your radar. Sure, he’s hot, okay, yes, he’s hot – no point thinking any different to what’s an objective fact. BUT , you’re also just as hot – maybe even more so – so there’s no need to feel nervous. If anything he’s probably feeling nervous, remember his face when he came in and you were questioning him - HA - he looked like a scared little boy…which actually is really odd when you think about what he’s like at school...cocky motherfucker..._

Lara had her hands pressed against the tiled wall, the water pouring over her head, running tracks down her face. Time often escaped her in there. She rubbed the contemplations off with a towel, enjoying method, routine; an end in each hand, a sawing motion. She oiled her body in circles. She covered her intimacies with a vest and shorts, and made her way back to where the couches were. Only, they were empty, and instead she found an unconscious Sirius Black in her bed. _Fuck_.

Lara hesitated. Then, after deciding she simply wouldn't sleep on the couch in her own home, she extinguished the lights and slid into bed. The dark was impenetrable after the golden glow. The only evidence of someone next to her in his breaths, the smell of his body, which Lara was irritated to find was incredibly pleasing to her. Shuffling slightly closer, she inhaled deeply and was met with musk and leather, a slight soapiness, and the faint sweet sweat of a day in the sun that made Lara think of sex. She recoiled, turning onto her back and clamping her thighs together. A few moments of internal struggle passed. She listened intently to Sirius' light snoring and, deciding that he was probably out cold, gave in. Sighing deeply and feeling heady from his savour, she slowly ran her fingers down past her navel and found her sweet spot. She stifled a moan, stuffing her hand into her mouth. Flipping over onto her front, she inhaled deeply again and continued pleasuring herself into the night, surrounded by the scent of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope anyone enjoys - more chapters coming soon. stay tuned.


	9. Early Autumn, 1976

“So, Padfoot, annual start of the year party tomorrow I hear, how about it?” James stuffed a whole sausage and a hash brown into his mouth simultaneously, and looked expectantly at Sirius.

It was a bright Thursday morning in the middle of September, the last feeble rays of summer sun filtering through the windows of the Great Hall, the ceiling a swirl of bright blue and white cloud. 

“I dunno…yeah, maybe…”

“Maybe?!” James yelped, “Come _on_ mate! Whiskey, girls, what more can you ask for?!” He stared around at the others, searching for support. “Guys?”

“You know, you chew your food alarmingly fast,” said Remus, frowning at his friend.

“Not the point of the conversation, Moony,” James huffed. “Are you telling me that four fine specimens – well maybe three, sorry Wormtail -” – James glanced at Sirius whose mouth twitched – “are saying no to a party?” 

“Oh no, I’m definitely going.” Remus took a delicate bite out of his toast and jam without taking his eyes off The Daily Prophet.

“YES!” James grinned, pointing at the sandy haired, heavily scarred boy across the table. “I knew you were my friend for a reason, Moony!”

“I’m coming too, Prongs!” Peter piped up, earning himself a high five.

“Two down, one to go…” James waggled his eyebrows at Sirius, who was pushing his food around on his plate. Looking slightly crestfallen at the lack of response, James changed tactic. “Pleeeease Padfoot,” he whined, “what’s up with you? You’ve been all weird and moody since you missed first period yesterday…wait a minute…hold on.” James leaned in, his voice now hushed and dramatic. “Are you _on your period_?!”

Sirius snorted. “Pathetic joke.” But he couldn't stop a small smile creeping on his face, and his chest felt somewhat lighter. 

“I’m taking that as a yes to the party! Wormy and I will secure the booze, Moony you’re in charge of helping Padfoot through his menses until then.”

Just as Remus was giving a thumbs up, chuckling at the grumbling expression on Sirius’ face, a series of loud bangs and shrieks came from the Slytherin table as one end disappeared in a riot of colour. As it dissipated, its victims were revealed to have been transfigured into a flock of yellow canaries. The Great Hall rang with laughter at the squawking birds, some of which had taken flight in alarm, ricocheting off the walls.

Professor McGonagall swept from her chair at the staff table and thundered up the aisle, followed closely by Professors Flitwick and Slughorn, descending on the panicked birds. A twiddle of wands, a loud bang, and seven Slytherins were returned to their human form, except for one startling difference.

“Oh my god – they still have beaks – I can’t breathe –” James gasped, eyes streaming, as the hall erupted again. 

“SETTLE DOWN, EVERYBODY!” Professor McGonagall barked, scouring the hall murderously. “The perpetrators of this juvenile prank, if identified, will be sure to lose their house fifty points _each_ and suffer weekly detentions with me for the following _two months_!”

Still wiping tears of laughter from their eyes, all four boys looked at each other in inquiry as Professor Slughorn herded the dishevelled looking students out of the Great Hall and to the hospital wing.

“Don’t look at me,” said Remus, “I’m a prefect again this year, remember.”

“Padfoot?” asked James.

Sirius shook his head, grinning. “Unfortunately not, mate. Shame though, would have liked to have taken credit for that one, especially as I think I spotted Snivellus over there. The beak kind of improves his face actually –”

“Well, unless he’s secretly a mastermind, it can’t be Wormtail!” James interrupted impatiently, looking round at his friend, but hands were thrown up, and head shaken in denial.

Just as James was grumbling that somebody must be lying, two boys slid into the spaces next to James and Sirius on either side of the table, one caramel skinned, the other fair and blonde with plaited hair, both with smug expressions on their faces.

“Well lads, what did we think?” Jigs asked, smirking.

“Personally, we think it was an upgrade to what they looked like before.” Emmanuel put his sequined bag on the table and began rummaging inside.

“What?!” James turned between both boys in shock and confusion.

“It’s our first,” said Emmanuel, touching up his mascara in a mirror. “So we thought we’d get a review from a bunch of veterans like yourselves.”

“Wow, impressive!” said Sirius, taken aback.

Remus rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer to the group, interest piqued. “How did you get the beaks to stay?”

“Just a separate little undetectable fixing charm applied to the face area only,” said Jigs proudly, “the regular counter spell won’t work.”

“Should wear off in about a week. Or so." Emmanuel smiled wickedly as they all sniggered.

“How did you manage to put it in place so no one would notice?” Sirius asked, still grinning. “Did you sneak down earlier?”

“Or stand there with a disillusionment charm?” said Remus.

“No need, we have a spy on the inside,” said Emmanuel cryptically, winking.

“Who?” demanded James.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” 

“Wow…” Peter flicked his head between both boys, fidgeting in his seat. “W–what made you do it? Payback or – or fun?” His tongue tripped, starstruck.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Wormtail. “Found your new celebrities?” he taunted, and turning to Jigs, who was grinning, added, “we support both.”

“Mainly boredom, but also” – Jigs reached to pour himself some pumpkin juice – “we hate Snape now.”

“OH MY GOD, THANK YOU!”

All of James’ disconcertion at the presence of the newcomers vanished in an instant, and he and Jigs started gabbing and swapping ideas for future pranks on their side of the table.

Emmanuel turned towards Sirius and rested his chin on both hands, fluttering his eyelashes.

“And how are you doing, Ken?”

Sirius cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

“Muggle things.” Emmanuel winked coquettishly. “We heard you and Lara were friends now, so we thought we’d come and introduce ourselves.”

On Sirius’ other side, Remus had stiffened slightly, and Sirius could tell he was listening intently despite having returned to his newspaper.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. “Erm, yeah, I guess we are…we sort of ran into each other over the summer.”

Emmanuel lifted a hand to his mouth and mock gasped. “Oh my goodness, tell me everything!”

Sirius stared at him in amusement. “Are you always this bitchy?”

“Yes. Are you always this good-looking?”

Sirius laughed. “Why yes, yes I am,” he replied cockily, enjoying the attention.

“Aren’t you a Ravenclaw?” Peter asked Emmanuel from across the table. 

“You are correct, darling.”

“Why – why are you at the Gryffindor table then?”

“Well, you see sweetie.” Emmanuel's voice was teasing, baby-like. “I have these things called legs, and this other thing called a brain, that I use to live my life exactly how I want to.”

Peter turned the colour of ham and buried his face in his cereal. Sirius and Remus sniggered.

“I’m Remus Lupin,” he said auspiciously, holding out his hand, which Emmanuel proceeded to take and lay a kiss upon.

“I like a man who's been through battle.” He smiled up at Remus from under his lashes. The raillery was softer, not intended to maim. A note on what was, and that it could be lovable.

Remus grinned sheepishly and took to fiddling with a frayed thread on his robes.

“Are you always this flirty as well?” Sirius asked between them.

“Oh honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Mr. Goldstein, I was not aware you were in my house?” Professor McGonagall had appeared behind Emmanuel and Sirius. “I suggest you return to your table, and _please_ remove your make-up, this is not a pantomime.”

“Self-expression, Professor,” Emmanuel retorted, and he swung his bag over his shoulder and sashayed up the aisle.

Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared at the sight of his skirt and stockings, but Sirius was sure he spotted a small smile flit momentarily across her face. Replaced by a grim expression in an instant however, she turned instead to the remaining Gryffindors.

“Obviously, I lack proof, but if I find out any one of you engineered this escapade, I will be taking _more_ than fifty points away from each of you. That includes you too, Mr Mayers,” she added, peering sternly at Jigs over her glasses, who held up his hands and shook his head frantically.

“Professor, I would never!” he gasped, “how could you think that?!”

The rest of the boys tried to stifle their laughter at the shocked and indignant expression on Jigs’ face, something that was not lost on Professor McGonagall.

“This is not a laughing matter!” McGonagall’s eyes flashed. “We have six boys in the hospital wing with _beaks_ instead of _mouths_! Until a counter spell can be found, they will be consuming pureed food through a _straw_!” She turned on her heel and strode back up to the teacher’s table, leaving the boys to dissolve into fits.

~

Over on the other side of the Gryffindor table, Lara looked over at the giggling sounds and frowned.

“What’s Jigs doing with The Marauders?”

Lily, Marlene, and Alice all peered in the direction of her stare.

“Who cares,” said Marlene indifferently, “what’s more important is, what are we all wearing to the party tomorrow?”

“Ooh, I’m thinking my orange dress,” Alice gushed, “with the blue – “

“Heels – uh-huh, uh-huh – I like. Lara?”

Lara sighed wearily. “I haven’t really thought about it – “

“Haven’t thought about it? Arguably _the_ most important event of the year?!”

“You need to get your priorities in order, mate.” Lara helped herself to more toast and glanced down the table again.

Following her gaze, Marlene retorted, “Why do _you_ care who sits with whom?”

“I don’t – I’m just saying – it’s weird.” But Lara kept her eyes on her plate, and Lily and Alice exchanged a brief look.

“I hope he doesn’t start becoming friends with Potter,” said Lily nervously, peering up the table again at both boys who were still deep in conversation. “Alice, maybe you can ask Frank to ask Ray to casually mention it to Jigs that everyone would rather that didn’t happen?”

“Oh, come _on_ Lily.” Marlene rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “We all know you’re starting to hold a torch for the boy” – Lily puffed indignantly – “don’t deny it! And you!” She pointed at Lara. “You’re not usually this bothered by things, let alone this quiet – what the hell is going on with everyone?!” She stood up and stuffed her newspaper into her bag irritably. “I’m leaving for class!”

She stalked up the aisle and out of the Great Hall, leaving guilty consciences in her wake.

“I’m going to go as well,” said Alice, “I’ll ask Frank don’t worry.” She rested a hand on Lily’s shoulder reassuringly for a moment, smiled gently at Lara, who was still mute and expressionless, and drifted off after Marlene.

Lara and Lily looked at each other in silence for a moment.

“Girl chat tonight? Fifth floor toilets?” Lara suggested.

“Agreed.” Lily smiled in relief. “Come on, we better get to potions as well, I honestly feel like I’m going to fail my NEWTs if I even miss five minutes.”

The two girls gathered their things and traipsed off towards the entrance hall. Lara felt eyes upon her. It was something she had gotten used to in her time at Hogwarts – people seemed perpetually curious about her – but it had increased significantly this year. Her band _Hole_ was gaining popularity, and their new single had been played on the Wizarding Wireless Network relentlessly over the summer.

Lara glanced over her shoulder as she walked, almost involuntarily, drawn towards some indeterminate source, and caught the eyes of Sirius Black upon her. She froze in her tracks, feet cemented to the floor. There it was again: that heady, forceful feeling swelling in the space between them. For a moment everything was silent, and it was just them, alone in the Great Hall…

“Lara?”

She jumped, pulled out of her trance, to see Lily poking her head back through the doors, looking to where Lara had been staring in uncertainty.

“Coming,” she called hastily.

As she walked out of the hall, she chanced another look, but Sirius had his back to her now, gathering his things and chatting to Remus, so she sped off after Lily, ears ringing.

~

It was eight o’clock, and Lara was stomping her heavy boots up to the fifth floor to meet Lily. The day had been on fast-forward until now. Classes were already becoming increasingly difficult this year, so much so that Lara often caught sight of her classmates staring blankly at the teachers, gormless expressions on their faces. She rubbed her temples; her brain felt so stuffed, she was sure words were about to ooze from her ears. Lara had never been able to focus for a whole lesson on theory, let alone a whole day. Her best classes were those with more practical wand work, an area that she excelled in and preferred the instant gratification of. She smirked to herself, thinking back to Transfiguration where her kitten had instantly become an oil lamp with a lazy flick of her wand, much to the outrage of most of her classmates who were still struggling with non-verbal spells. 

She had pulled through her OWLs reasonably well. Full marks in the practical exams. Nevertheless, had Lily not drummed the theory for the written papers into her incessantly, she would have scored considerably lower. She had still done abysmally in History of Magic; anything still and slow felt like imprisonment. Astronomy, however, she remarkably adored. She could lie there under the expanse for hours, never moving, never bored. It made her feel small, as inconsequential as a gust of wind in the entirety of time. It sated that hunger for nothingness somewhat, as if each star was an Opioid hurtling through the telescope. She was one of only a few that had continued the subject at NEWT level, Remus Lupin among them. There was also something understandably masochistic in the way he observed the skies. 

A pair of voices softly drifted up the stone corridor.

She had come off at the fourth floor to take a lesser known shortcut to the girl's toilets. She frowned, the sounds getting louder, more distinctive, with each step. _Hold on…I know that voice._ She stopped abruptly, eyeing the point where the corridor turned warily. _Onwards._ She crept up to the corner and flashed one eye down the passage. She knew it. It was him. Standing with Roselyn Barrett, a blonde and waif like creature in the year above. He was flaunting his usual lazy smile, leaning against the wall casually, his eyes flitting back and forth between Roselyn’s breasts and face as she jutted her chest out. The waif-like Nymph - _for she was, a Nymph_ \- stepped closer to Sirius, and he took a strand of her hair, coiling it around his finger...

In an instant, hot, thick waves of lava poured through Lara’s body. She had never felt this before - her ears were ringing, numbness crept up her fingers, her throat started closing. She couldn't control it, all she could do was turn on her heel and thunder back up the corridor, not caring if they heard her footsteps, not stopping until she reached the toilets.

Lara burst into the fifth-floor bathroom, the door bouncing off the inside wall with such force that Lily, who had been trying to shape her eyebrows with her wand, shrieked and blew the right one off. Gasping in relief at the sight of Lara, she turned back to the mirror with an expression of horror at her lopsided appearance, and hurriedly muttered an incantation that saw her eyebrow slink back into place.

“Oh no! I’m going to have to shape that one agai–”

“Oh fuck fuck _fuck_ , Lily, I’m fucked – oh my god – I think I’m gonna have a panic attack – oh _fuck_ –”

“Wha–” Lily turned around in alarm. “Sit down! Breathe, Lara, I’ll get you some water!” She hastily materialised a glass in mid-air and pointed her wand at it. “ _Aguamenti_. Here, drink!”

Lara gulped down the cool liquid and felt it slowly ease some of the burning molten in her chest. Breathing hard, she leant back and slid down the wall, eyes closed. After a few minutes of silence she muttered, “okay, you tell me your stuff first, I can’t talk right now.”

But Lily stayed silent. Cracking an eye, Lara saw she was sitting on the floor too, arms wrapped around her knees, an odd expression on her face.

“Lily?”

Lily drew in a long breath, not meeting her eye, and said slowly, “I don’t know what to say…I don’t know how I feel about what Marlene said, but…I feel something.” She frowned at the floor.

Lara slid over and reached an arm around her reassuringly. “I know babe, I know.”

“I…I don’t like Potter – I don’t, but…I feel bad about what I said to him at the end of last term…it wasn’t entirely true – I mean, maybe the massive head bit was – but…oh, I just don’t know!” She buried her face in her hands frustratedly.

Lara stayed silent and began stroking Lily’s head.

“I don’t want to feel, Lara, but…we feel – we _all_ feel _feelings…_ right?” She was clutching at straws.

“Oh, we feel Lilypad… _Oh_ _fuck,_ we feel.” 

Lara understood: sometimes feelings were formless, indiscernible; sometimes they meant one thing, then suddenly meant another; sometimes they could be grasped in one hand and examined at will, while at others they were lost to the winds like broken kites.

Lily’s face was still buried, voice muffled. “He’s just such a bloody immature drama queen!”

“Ahh he’s not that bad, he might surprise you.”

Lily moved a finger and glanced sideways through the space. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s been thirteen days and no one’s bullied anyone yet, and…I dunno, I just…” Lara shifted uncomfortably. “Black wasn’t half as bad as I thought he was going to be…I actually enjoyed hanging out with him over the summer,” she added ruefully.

“Wait, what?” Lily removed her hands, looking startled.

“Oh, yeah.” Lara grinned sheepishly. “There’s a lot you don’t know…”

She launched into the story of their time together; haphazardly, chronologically inaccurate, certain moments emitted from the spiel, until Lily’s eyes were so wide that Lara was afraid they were about to fall off the edges of her face.

“…so yeah, that’s basically it. And now, here we are, hiding in a bathroom talking about boys,” she finished, shaking her head.

“Yeah…we really suck as strong independent women right now, don’t we?” Lily bit her lip anxiously and giggled. “Every Wonder Woman needs a Superman though, right?”

“I prefer Catwoman and Batman if that’s how we’re going.”

“I can totally see that for you and Black actually.”

Both girls smiled into the stone wall, three horizontal rows of white tile punctuating the expanse evenly, the image of Lara and Sirius as the dark couple of Gotham city gathering detail in their minds. Lily suddenly gasped in excitement.

“Oh my god! Imagine how amazing that would look as a couples costume for Halloween!”

It was all too much; Lara smacked a palm into her forehead.

“Oh god Lily – Jesus Christ – what’s become of us!” She threw up her arms and Lily fell backwards, giggling again. “You’ve gone from books to boys and I’ve gone from drugs to -”

“Dicks?”

Both girls burst out laughing, Lily’s high voice and Lara’s earthy one echoing off the tall ceiling as they rolled on the floor in fits, and Peeves, who had heard the din as he was bouncing by, swooped in cackling, turned on a tap full blast and wrenched off the top, so that pellets of water rang percussion on every surface, joining the orchestra already booming in the bathroom.

~

It was just after nine o’clock now, and Lara and Lily were moseying back up to the Gryffindor tower, drying their clothes with their wands, both in far better moods than they had been in the morning.

They clambered through the portrait hole and into the common room, a warm, circular space with mismatched furniture and paintings of various sizes on the walls. Eyes flicked in Lara’s direction and she groaned inwardly, her mood rapidly deflating. A familiar sound was crashing out of the Wizarding Wireless Network. Spotting Marlene, Ray, and Jigs by the fire, she sped over and flopped herself down in the spare armchair as Lily curled up on the rug next to Jigs.

Ray grinned at Lara’s disgruntled expression. “I don’t know what you’re annoyed about, you get Galleons every time this comes on.”

“Yeah, and I’m still as poor as a pumpkin. It’s just the bloody staring that comes with it that bothers me; don’t people have anything better to do?”

Even before she had finished her sentence, she noticed someone in her left field of vision, and turned to see a blonde third year staring at her nervously. A moments silence passed. Lara cleared her throat.

“Can I help you?”

“Um…hi – um – sorry…I was just – just wondering if I could” – the girl took a deep breath – “have your autograph?”

Lara stared at her blankly. She looked round to the others for support, all of whom were stifling giggles and trying to hide their faces. She turned back to the girl. “Uh…yeah, sure thing.” She took the quill and parchment, signed her name, and drew a little doodle of herself in cartoon form.

“Oh my god, thank you!” the girl gushed, running back to her friends in excitement.

Lara scratched her head. “Well, that was surreal.”

“Can _I_ have your autograph?” Sirius Black slid into her armchair and draped an arm over her shoulders, staring at her with a smirk.

“Why? Looking for things to decorate your wall with?” 

He chuckled softly, but didn’t reply.

She wondered how his meeting with Roselyn had ended. She felt silly about it now; they didn’t owe each other anything after only a few staring competitions and two weeks of summer. _They can’t have done much anyway; he was here before me_ , she thought.

They sat squashed together in silence, watching the fire crackle and spit behind the grate, surrounded by the din of the common room. Marlene and Jigs were conversing animatedly about something and Ray was showing Lily pictures of his nephew. Lara’s voice pelted out of the radio. Her body burned all along the left side where it touched his. He began drumming lightly on her right shoulder, falling into step with her quickening pulse. She was starting to feel increasingly warm; the fire to her right, Sirius to her left, and the varying shades of red and maroon on the walls and furniture, was starting to make Lara feel as if she was in the belly of a great dragon. She tugged at her collar, squinting at Sirius out of her left eye.

“Do the other Marauders want to come over and hang?”

“Marauders, eh?” He chewed the inside of his mouth.

She pinched him.

“Ouch, that hurt!” He scrunched up his face in mock sadness. “I think I’m going to cry!”

“Sirius…” she growled.

“Ha! Calm down, love. They’re busy – very tense game of wizards chess right now.” He nodded over to the far corner where James and Remus were perched on the edges of their seats, hunched over a board, Peter watching eagerly.

Someone turned the radio up a notch as her song started dying out, and the presenters deep voice crackled out above the cacophony.

“… _and that was Teenage Whore by Hole, a cracking first official release from the band fronted by ex – Nirvana drummer, Lara Love, who we hear Cobain has spoken about in an interview due to be released tomorrow in the Prophet – watch out kids – and NOW, speaking of the devil, here’s Smells Like Teen Spirit…”_

Lara’s eyebrows disappeared into her fringe and the others turned to look at her, speechless.

Ray broke the silence. “What do you think it’s going to say?”

Lara laughed bitterly. “Well, seeing as I publicly said he was ‘only as talented as my song writing skills’ to that journalist, I highly doubt it’s going to be good.”

“That’s not entirely inaccurate,” Marlene asserted, “all the hits on his album so far are the ones you wrote!”

“Yeah, but people don’t know that, we didn’t do any of that 'trademark, ownership' stuff. He just took all the songs when I quit the band and then _failed_ to credit me on them.”

Marlene slammed the book she was reading shut. “What?! That’s so shitty! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Lara shrugged. “What could you have done?”

“My Dad might have been able to get some info from that department at the Ministry, you never know!”

“It probably would have been too late by then Mar,” said Jigs, unwrapping a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum. 

“Better than doing nothing!” Marlene held up a finger. “I never liked him. Great face, great voice, but always played the victim and –”

“Always knew he was going to show his true colours one day,” Sirius butted in tersely, “green and silver that is!”

“Oh, fuck off, Black!” Lara burst hotly, “that’s not the reason he’s being an arsehole! People aren’t either good or Slytherins, stop being so ignorant!”

“Fine, I’ll leave.”

“Ugh – no – don’t – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

But Sirius was already halfway across the room and had sat back down with his friends, facing away from her. Lara sank into the armchair, her anger already ebbing, her body already cold.

“Psst…Psst, guys?” Jigs had his hand in front of his mouth, whispering loudly, “a beast seems to have entered our camp, but I think if we retreat slowly without making eye contact, we’ll be safe.”

Lara grinned reluctantly amid the chortles.

“Don’t worry about it, Lara,” said Lily gently, “by tomorrow he’ll either have forgotten, or calmed down enough for you to apologise.”

“And you can look totally bomb for the party so that as soon as he sees you, he won’t even care.” Marlene added.

“Is the only thing you care about this bloody party?” Lara crossed her legs, feeling irritable again.

Marlene glared at her. “It wouldn’t kill you to care a bit more! Since we decided against the spiders, I need to make Darius _so_ _jealous_ that he wishes he never ignored me, so yes, it’s important to me!”

Lara paused for a moment and then sighed. “You’re right, Marlene, I’m sorry – I’m being a total bitch right now to everyone. You can borrow any clothes you want, and I’ll do that smoky eye look for you that you like.”

Marlene’s anger instantly evaporated. “Yay!” she said, clapping her hands, “and we’re getting hella drunk right?!”

Everyone shouted in agreement.

“YES –”

“Oh, fuck yeah –”

“Absolutely _wasted_ –”

“I brought some of my uncles homemade Jamaican rum –”

“Niiiiice one –”

Lara was starting to feel excited now. She was craving the numbness and pleasantry that alcohol offered. _And there’s nothing better than getting rid of guilt like getting fucked up,_ she thought. She hadn’t meant to get angry at Sirius like that. She often struggled to control her emotions for a few days after an opiate binge; she was lucky to have a solid group of friends around her that knew her anger wasn’t personal, and wouldn’t last. Even Marlene, whose fiery nature roused Lara more than anyone in the group, would fly to her aid in a stormy second. Both girls would kill for one another before they killed each other. She also found herself a little too defensive when it came to Kurt; the one thing she hated most was feeling like a fool.

“Speaking of tomorrow, Lara.” Ray was rummaging through his bag, forehead wrinkled as he searched for something. “We’re all playing a set on the decks as per tradition, you’re on eleven to twelve.”

She looked at Ray in alarm. “But that’s prime time!”

Ray located his cigarette box, stood up, and swung his thick travelling cloak over himself. “You’re more than capable, dear.” He smiled kindly. “Right, I’m off for a smoke.” Pinning his prefect badge to his chest, he picked up his belongings, and walked out of the common room.

“I’m actually dying for a smoke so bad.” Jigs was lying on his back now. “But I physically can’t be bothered to move…one day I feel like I’ll be dying for food, and I just won’t be bothered to move, and I’ll _actually die_ …”

“I’ve honestly never heard anything more accurate about you,” said Marlene, throwing a piece of scrunched up parchment at the shiny bubble that had just bloomed from Jigs’ lips.

Lara chanced a glance over at Sirius again while her friends were laughing. He still had his back to her, watching the chess game that appeared to be reaching its climax. James was rocking back and forth, raking his fingers through his hair, while Remus looked on with quiet pleasure. Peter appeared to have given up paying attention and was fiddling with a packet of liquorice wands. She sighed internally, her eyes tracing the hard lines of Sirius’ body, his shoulders slightly stretching his t-shirt sensually. Her lips quirked as she noticed she wasn’t the only one in the room tracking these lines.

She turned back to her friends. “I’m going to bed – not in the dorms, so I’ll see you at breakfast.”

They nodded, currently engrossed in trying to burst the quivering bubble that seemed to be nearing the size of a Quidditch goal hoop. And so, she left, the clamour of the common room popping into silence as the portrait swung shut behind her. She wandered down the deserted corridor, turned a corner (there had been many of them today), and cast a disillusionment charm upon herself, fading into the night sky sparkling through the windows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the 2 kudos! Even that tiny number makes me smile that someones enjoying my work. Hold tight, more coming soon.


	10. Early Autumn, 1976

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bit of a filler one but still drama, gossip, angst, politics, and a partay.

“Oh. My. God.”

It was Friday morning, and Marlene had The Daily Prophet open at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

“What?!” demanded Lara.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Oh my god _what_?! _Marlene_!” Lara reached over her toast to grab the newspaper, but Marlene jerked it out of her reach.

Owl’s were still crowding the tables, ruffling their feathers, cheeping into goblets of pumpkin juice. A gust flew up the Gryffindor table, rustling the newspaper. A parliament took flight. Lily and Alice were crowded around Marlene, the tops of all three heads only just visible above the paper as they read in a deafening silence.

“Is no one going to tell _me_ what the interview says about _me_?” said Lara irritably.

“Lara!”

She turned in relief to see Jigs running up from the other end of the table, creased newspaper in hand.

“Thank god!”

He skidded to a halt in front of her and slapped the newspaper down, fumbling to the right page.

“What does it say?! Have you read it? And where’s Ray?” She peered round Jigs.

“He had some prefect duties, but he’s seen it already…aha! Here we go.” Jigs squashed in next to Lara and started reading.

“ _It’s a dark and gusty evening, writes newly appointed entertainment correspondent Rita Skeeter, and I’m sitting –_ ”

“Wait! Don’t start without us, you cretin!” Emmanuel pushed some first years to the side and swung his long legs over the bench next to Lara, followed closely by Nood.

“We’re here for moral support,” said Nood, pouring himself some coffee.

“Speak for yourself!” scoffed Emmanuel, “I’m here for the gossip.” But he winked and gave Lara a reassuring nudge.

“Are you both finished?!” Jigs glared at them, then turned back to the paper and cleared his throat.

“ _It’s a dark and gusty evening, writes newly appointed entertainment correspondent Rita Skeeter, and I’m sitting in a muggle pub in a quaint corner of London with arguably the biggest rock star of right now. With a hood pulled over his head and shades on, it’s clear he intends to keep a low profile. It’s no surprise; Nirvana’s album ‘Nevermind’ has sky-rocketed to number one in the wizarding music charts, ushering in a new era of music where brooding boys sing about suicide by muggle methods._

_I lean forward, dazzling him with my smile, and begin the raw and unedited interview of the man, the myth, the mogul: Mr Kurt Cobain._

_‘So, Kurt, number one. How does that feel?’_

_‘Surreal, I guess…I always knew we would make it though. We have something to say and that’s what matters.’_

_I take a sip of my beer and wink at Kurt, wrapping him on the knuckles._

_‘You are quite the story-teller. Tell the reader’s, Kurt, where your inspiration comes –‘”_

“Not to be big-headed or anything,” interrupted Lara, “but can we skip to the part about me please – the suspense is killing me.”

“Okay, let’s see… _lone voice of a generation_ … _drug accusation’s_ … _dating life_ …ah here we go…

_…and I turn to the toothier topic of feuds within the band._

‘ _I have to ask Kurt – Lara Love. The readers are dying to know: WHY did she really leave the band? WHAT made her vilify you to the press? DID she really write songs on the album?’_

_For the uninformed reader, Love, ex-drummer of Nirvana turned frontwoman of her own band, exited the group in a mysterious turn of events some months back. Hole’s new single, Teenage Whore, a risky rubric to pubescent angst, is fairing just behind Nirvana in the charts, a fact I pointedly remind Mr. Cobain._

_‘Some people are even saying Kurt’ – I lean forwards, catching his attention with my knowing gaze – ‘that without Love, there wouldn’t be a Cobain. What is your response to this?’_

_At these comments, Mr. Cobain appears unreadable, reserved, as if carefully planning what to say next. It’s no secret that Love and Cobain were an item – but who drove the stake into whom is yet unknown._

_Could it be that Love broke Cobain’s heart leaving the band, spurring him to wipe her from the credits out of spite? Or could it be that Love is in fact an image-obsessed socialite intent on pulling down a genius that she could never amount to herself –”_

Lara snorted. “What a sweetheart.”

“– _Mr. Cobain says nothing for a full 5minutes as I sit patiently._

_‘On the record?’ he asks finally._

_I give him my most luminous smile. ‘The readers will be ecstatic!’_

_‘Lara is a very special person to me,’ he begins, twiddling his thumbs, ‘I’m not going to talk about the circumstances of her leaving the band. But I want to say, on the record, that she was hugely influential in the making of Nirvana and Nevermind.'_ _He pauses for a moment, hesitating, evidently nervous that this confession may destroy his entire career. I give him an encouraging smile. 'In addition to being an overall collaborator on the album,_ _Lara and I specifically wrote Smells Like Teen Spirit, Come As You Are, Lithium, and In Bloom together…without her, those songs would have never existed. It was a difficult decision choosing not to credit her at the time and one that I regret…and no, I will not be explaining why.’_

_Mr. Cobain’s bodyguard exerts an authoritative presence at this point, and it is clear my wand is tied, so I nod respectfully, urging him to continue with his heart-rendering confession._

_‘I want to publicly say that I made a mistake and to tell Lara, if she’s reading, that I’m sorry, and I hope we can be friends again.’_

_‘And how do you reply Kurt, to all those who might say that this admission of plagiarism spells the end for Nirvana?’_

_Mr. Cobain stares at me brashly before throwing some muggle money on the table._

_‘Fame isn’t everything,’ he says, and with that, stands up and walks out of the pub._

_I sit there, reeling from the shocking revelation. I write now to Miss. Love. If she is reading this, I urge her to contact me, newly appointed entertainment correspondent Rita Skeeter, with her statement._

_HOW does it feel to be vindicated? WHO is the genius woman behind the man? WHAT is she going to do next?_

_No doubt that fans around the country will be begging for a reunion. Could it have already happened?_

_These details and more, coming soon.”_

Jigs folded up the newspaper in the stunned silence.

“Well…shit,” Emmanuel broke the reticence, “I guess the tin man does have a heart after all.”

“Could be a super-Slytherin move, play the misunderstood good guy?” said Marlene.

Nood frowned. “I resent that.”

“No one purposefully tanks their entire career, he must know this is gonna play out in his favour,” said Jigs.

“And when has anyone ever known _Rita Skeeter_ to be _this nice_?” added Lily.

Emmanuel snorted. “She’s probably gagging for that celebrity dick!”

Everyone was laughing loudly into their goblet’s, but Lara couldn’t hear them.

“I’ve got to go,” she muttered, and stood up to protests from her friends and a sea of eyes upon her.

Ignoring them all, she ran up the aisle to the entrance hall, their shouts fading fast behind her.

~

_Romily,_

_If you haven’t read todays Prophet, go now. Got song lyrics spewing out of me as hard as that one time I threw my guts up in the back alley behind The Roundhouse. I have no fucking idea how I feel about what Kurt said and what his end game is. Doesn’t matter anyway, we’ve got to capitalise on this article and get a song out quick – no guts, no glory._

_Lyrics below, I’m working on the melody, need lead guitar from you, and get Bunny on the base. Robyn’s still out in Aussie land, owl her when you’re done for drums._

_And I will awake_

_Your highness, I'm so high I cannot walk_

_And I will awake_

_You cripple, you take away my time, my peace, my empathy_

_No babies sleep on atrophy_

_Your unborn love and fetal's dress_

_My bitter candy fated less caress_

_Go for credit in the straight world_

_Look a dealer in the eye_

_Go for credit in the real world, won't you try_

_I got some credit in the straight world_

_I lost a leg, I lost an eye_

_Go for credit in the real world you will die_

_It's the credit in the straight world_

_Leave your money when you die_

_Lots of credit in the real world gets you high_

_I got some credit in the straight world_

_I lost a leg, I lost an eye_

_Go for credit in the real world, you will die_

_Peace,_

_Love._

_P.S. You checked out that new muggle band yet – The Clash? They just came onto the scene and I’m feeling it. Let’s go to a show when I’m back in London at Christmas._

_P.P.S There’s a guy Rom, a really hot guy. I think I’m losing it._

Lara rolled up the parchment and sent it off with one of the school owls, watching as the tawny splodge turned into a spec and vanished from sight. She stayed there for a long while, surveying the grounds that were starting to turn their typical amber of Autumn. She had an overwhelming urge to source the last opiate she had stashed, to rid herself of the nebulous anxiety bubbling away inside of her. But instead, knuckles white, she stayed in the bitter tower, studying every detail, every leaf, of the slowly changing grounds of Hogwarts.

~

It was much later that evening, and the Room of Requirement was bursting with what felt like the entire Hogwarts population above fourth year. A heaving mass of bodies pumped to the thumping music with Ray already at the helm, records flying around his head. Smaller groups straggled around the edges, congregating around tables of bottles and goblets, many already resting on their sides, sticky contents dripping. Designated chill out areas housed stretched limbs and teenage impulse.

Having supposed to have done it hours earlier, Lara was in a dark corner hurriedly putting the finishing touches on the set-times poster. With two waves of her wand, she made a mass of copies and sent them flying onto the walls. She stepped back, siphoning the spilled ink with her wand, double checking she’d got the set-times right; her brain felt foggy, chaotic - not enough food and too much booze.

**SET TIMES**

**_ 8-9pm _ **

**_DJ Shackles LIVE_ **

**_ 9-10pm _ **

**_Soundsystem_ **

**_ 10-11pm _ **

**_DJ NoodleDrop LIVE_ **

**_ 11-12pm _ **

**_DJ Preditah LIVE_ **

**_ 12pm-late  _ **

**_Soundsystem_ **

**With MC 2-D on the mic all night**

“Come _on,_ Lara!”

Lara looked behind her at Marlene’s impatient face shouting from the crowd and grinned. Her friend was impossible to calm down in situations like this.

“One sec, babe!” she shouted, turning to vanish the inkpot and quill, when Marlene suddenly grabbed her from behind in a vice like grip.

Soon the girls were giggling and spinning around the floor in a wild dance, people around them edging away for fear of being accidentally slapped.

“You look FUCKING STUNNING, Mar!” yelled Lara.

“Don’t I know it!” Marlene giggled, already flushed in the face. She was wearing a silky red dress that hugged her in all the right places, her breasts slowly trying to escape from the top.

“And you!” Marlene spun Lara away from her. “What kind of sick individual wouldn’t want _that_ on a platter – show me what they pay you for!”

Lara whirled around and stalked away, throwing flirty looks over her shoulder. She had skipped the entire school day, eventually turning up in the dormitories not more than half an hour prior, frozen and starved. She had insisted she was ready to go in her baggy jeans and doc’s, but Marlene’s vehement protests, and Alice’s timid agreement that she did, in fact, look like a common mountain troll, meant she was now wearing her vintage muggle designer bustier, that was similarly struggling to contain her bosom, and her stripper heels. She had managed to retain the baggy jeans though, having beaten down Marlene and insisting the look was trendy. Hoots and wolf-whistles followed her as she sauntered back.

“Three hundred and sixty degrees of SEXY!” said Emmanuel, clicking his fingers. “Right ladies, I’m off – Jamie Donovan is eye-fucking me from across the room.”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “He’s straight!”

“They’re all _'straight'_ honey, but believe me when I say I’ll at least be sucking on that dick tonight!”

“Go get it girl!” Lara slapped him on the bum as he wiggled off.

“Speaking of dick, someone’s waiting for you.” Marlene nodded over Lara’s shoulder, smiling impishly. “Lily and I will see you later.” She winked, dragging a maudlin Lily (also too much booze and not enough food) with her into the crowd.

Lara turned. Sirius was leaning against the wall, eyeing her warily, his arms crossed. She had known she was going have to apologise at the party… _but not this soon_ , she thought nervously, _should have backed that extra shot_...She approached him slowly, noticing how good he looked; his lean biceps bulged in their flexed position, his chest broad and muscled under his white t-shirt. She shivered, wanting to close the space between them in a run and bury her hands in his curls, claiming his lips as her own.

She gave a bashful smile instead. “How you doing?”

“Fine,” he said tonelessly.

She laughed nervously, eyeing his chest. “This is nice…” She reached out and fingered the thin silver chain out from under his t-shirt, brushing her fingers against his skin.

She could see his neck visibly pulse at her touch, but his face remained impassive. She dropped the chain. She wouldn’t be able to flirt her way out, and so, took a deep breath.

“Look, I’m…I’m sorry about yesterday. Sometimes I – you know, I just lose my temper without meaning to, it’s – I’m trying to work on it. You didn’t do anything wrong at all…the whole ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing…well, I really am sorry…”

She stared at his chest, resisting the urge to look up into his face, sure it would still hold a stony look. But instead, she saw the crease of material, and a finger lifted her chin until she was staring into those wild grey eyes that were twinkling in their usual constellations.

“Apology accepted, love.”

“Well…good.” Her breath hitched in her throat.

Sirius studied her, a boyish grin spreading slowly on his face. “Am I making you nervous? _The_ Lara Love?”

Lara held his gaze for a moment, then looked down and took her tobacco box out of her pocket. She slowly rolled a cigarette, deliberately ignoring his stare, lingering over the process. He fidgeted. She could feel his need, his desire for her response. She ran the rolled cigarette back and forth across her lips, slower than usual, until it found its spot. She looked back up.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

His eyes darkened, and he lifted his hand to run a thumb over her lips. “Oh, so you’re a tease…I see…you can’t play me at my own game, Love.” He put the thumb to his mouth, wet it, and brushed it down her lips again, parting them slightly. “I’ll win.” He took the cigarette from her mouth, put it in his own, and walked off.

Lara watched him disappear into the crowd, her lips burning. She wet them with her tongue, wanting to taste him. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted the saltiness of skin on skin, of tongue on body. She wanted him. 

~

Sirius walked through the sweaty throng, Lara’s cigarette hanging out of his mouth, nerves throbbing with the music. He felt exhilarated. He’d chased many girls before, but this was different. The prize was much more than just her. Everything felt urgent, risky, as if one wrong move might end the whole game and he would free fall into nothing. He still wasn’t quite sure how she felt about him. Her stares could be expressionless, her eyes inaccessible; either she was protecting herself from something or she simply didn’t care.

He lit the cigarette and ran a hand through his hair. He felt like he wanted to plunge his head into a bucket of ice water. Seeing her dressed up like that, her tight slender curves on display, it was hard to control himself. _And when she was checking you out_ … _Merlin_ … _drink,_ he thought, _I need a fucking drink_.

Wading his way through the crowd, he finally spotted the boys: Peter looking nervous, Remus looking amused, and James aggressively engaging a brunette Sirius didn’t recognise in conversation. He grinned and bounded over, suddenly happy for the familiarity of his friends.

The party heaved on, passing in a blur of bottles and laughter, the disco lights a kaleidoscope of colours. Sirius had rejected the advances of several drunk girls who had practically thrown themselves at him, breasts heaving. He hadn’t entirely wasted the opportunities, however. He was leaning against the wall now, happily watching the result of his handywork: James was grinding enthusiastically with the brunette; Remus was in the corner with a pretty blonde on his lap. Peter had long disappeared; Sirius suspected he might have ended up in the toilets, green from too much Firewhiskey.

His eyes searched for Lara in the crowd. They found Lily instead. He watched her for a bit with lazy interest, noting curiously that she kept glancing over her shoulder as she danced. Following her line of sight, Sirius’ smile faltered, and his eyes pinged back and forth between her and James. The whirling lights made it hard to read Lily’s expression, but she almost looked upset beneath her laughter. Sirius frowned. _But she hates him…doesn’t she?_

Finally noticing Lara headbanging on stage (strange girl), he grabbed two drinks and made his way over, feeling smug at the pleased look on her face. They danced together - bumping hips, moving closer, pulling apart, like waves; always leaving, always coming back. The air between them felt thick, like the pull of two opposing magnets. It startled Sirius how instantaneous the effect of their proximity was. The music warped and swelled, foreign sounds flitting in and around the body of the songs.

He moved closer to her, deciding to break the charge that was slowly overwhelming him.

“How do you guys change the music?” he shouted in her ear, “it sounds like the songs but different – I’ve never heard anything like it!”

“We get a lot of inspiration from the muggle music scene!” she shouted back, “and we’ve been developing charms for years so we can mix tunes and overlay recorded sounds on the turntables! Gramophones just don’t cut it anymore!” She reached down and picked up her drink. “Let’s go to the chill area, I can barely hear myself think!”

They walked towards a large area with soft couches and beanbags, small round tables, illuminated softly from above with floating candles. A grey haze hung in the air towards the back and Lara headed towards it, Ray and Jigs appearing through the smoke.

“ – mannn Nood is _killing_ it right now!” Jigs had his head thrown back, hands covering his face. “Ughhh, I’m so jealous, did you hear how he was scratching the record then just dropped the needle on the other one – fuuuck me!”

“You’re not the one that has to follow him!” Lara swung her legs over a big beanbag and collapsed into it, pulling Sirius with her with a grin.

“Ha!” Jigs was cackling at her now. “You’re fucked!”

“Oh lovely! Thanks!”

“Holy shit!” Sirius used his elbow to push himself forward on the beanbag excitedly. “I just got it – drop the needle, the needle drop: _TheNoodleDrop_!”

Lara looked at him bemusedly. “What did you think it meant?”

Sirius sank back, grinning awkwardly. “Uh, nothing…”

“Racism!” Jigs barked across the table.

“Wha – No! I didn’t mean –”

“People never _mean_ it, everyone’s like: are you muggle-born or pure-blood?” Jigs was holding a palm up on either side of himself. “What about what we look like, eh?! Ray is muggle-born _and_ he’s a black man! Can’t swing a dick without running into a bigot!”

Sirius spluttered, looking round to Lara for help, who was laughing so hard off the edge of the beanbag she looked like she might throw up a lung.

Ray smacked Jigs on the back of the head. “Let the man breathe!” he boomed, then smiled at Sirius benevolently. “Don’t worry, he’s only pulling your wand. Nood wouldn’t have chosen the name if he didn’t want people to make the connection. He's proud of his heritage, it's not a cuss.”

Sirius gave a worried grin, unsure of how to react, but Jigs was heaving just as hard as Lara while Ray chastised him, so he relaxed into the beanbag and took a gulp of his drink.

“What’s Nood’s actual name?” he asked Lara after a moment.

“Norudo Nintoku,” she wheezed, coming up for air.

Sirius scratched his chin, frowning. “Nintoku…Nintoku…this rings a bell for some reason…”

“Could be 'cause it’s an old imperial blood line? Emperor Nintoku ruled Japan for a while way back – Nood’s total royalty!”

Sirius shook his head in dissent, eyes glassy as he sifted through memories. 

“Maybe from batshit pure-blood circles then?” Lara suggested, “his family are similar to what you’ve told me about yours.”

It suddenly dawned on him. “Holy shit, yes! I think I might have even been paraded like a prize pet around the same parties as him when we were kids…”

Lara gave him a sympathetic smile. “You guys should talk, bond over your homes from hell. He hates all that pure-blood crap too.”

“Wahey, what’s going on over here?!” James had just bowled into the seating area, waggling his eyebrows at the pair on the beanbag, followed closely by Remus.

“JAMIE BABY!” roared Jigs.

James jumped on him and they wrapped their arms around each other tightly, cheeks smooched together. “JIGS MY MAN!”

“You’ve actually just missed me – I have to go and MC!”

“I’ll wait for you.” James batted his eyelashes, everyone laughing loudly at the pair.

“You better!” Jigs filled up his glass with more rum and strutted off. “Oh, by the way, I was taking you for a fast one Sirius, couldn’t help it!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“You’re a cunt!” Sirius yelled, grinning.

He felt nervous around Lara’s friends; him and the Marauders were the height of popularity at school, but Lara and her friends were…worldly. There was no other word for it, and it made Sirius excited and fearful, at all the things he might experience with Lara and all the ways he might be lacking. 

Remus held his hand out to Ray, smiling. “Hi, I’m Remus, this is James. Seeing as our two best friends have started enjoying each other’s company _out of the blue_ ,” he said, glancing towards the beanbag shrewdly, “we wanted to avail ourselves of further friendship too.”

“Your critical thinking skills are excellent, Remus,” sniggered Ray. Sirius and Lara scowled.

“Nice set earlier by the way!” added Remus.

“Pleasure, thanks man!”

“Actually” – Sirius propped himself forwards again – “Lara and I were chatting earlier – I was saying that it’s so innovative what you guys are doing!”

“Thank you!” Ray beamed. “We’ve been obsessed with DJ’ing for years and people are finally listening!”

Lara nodded. “We’ve been thinking about releasing a small magazine on Jamaican Soundsystem culture –”

“Bless my people!” said Ray, thumping his chest.

“– and the muggle origins of DJ music.”

“Might even start a radio station for underground music and pro-muggle views when we leave Hogwarts.” Ray lit a fresh cigarette. “Someone’s got to stand up to the bullies in black!”

“Right on man!” said James, high fiving Ray.

They all threw back shots, chatting and laughing, as the noise of the crowd amplified, and Jigs hollered into the charmed mic on stage.

“ _– it’s ya boy on the mic, MC 2-D! And DJ Drop on the decks – hold tight selecta –”_

Sirius was feeling exponentially more drunk by the minute, and by the looks of Moony and Prongs, they were too; Lara and her friends seemed to knock it back like it was juice. He inhaled deeply, focussing his mind, willing himself not to be as much of a hot mess as he was over the summer.

“What happened with that brunette, mate?” he asked, pushing another shot of rum across the table at James.

“Ahh, she wanted to come back to the dorms but” – he shrugged – “I wasn’t feeling it.”

Ray pulled on his cigarette, studying him. “Given up on Lily?”

James shrugged again non-committedly, pouring himself another shot, and Sirius noticed Lara exchange an almost imperceptible look with Ray.

“Come off it, James,” said Remus, “you’re still head over heels and you know it.”

James sighed dramatically. “It’s an illness at this point.”

“How’s it going for you then?” asked Lara, leaning forwards interestedly.

“Awful…I’ve never known anyone to dislike me so much…might be time to throw in the towel…”

Sirius hated seeing his friend look so defeated. Over the years, they had shared truly tender moments spilling hard truths about their fears and feelings. He knew James was unequivocally and irrevocably in love with Lily Evans.

“Potter, listen to me carefully.” Ray leaned forward, beckoning him with two fingers. “I don’t think you should give up, but I think _space_ is a _good thing_. It’s what she’s been trying to tell you she needed all along, okay?”

Looking at everyone’s encouraging faces, James smiled hopefully. “Don’t give up?”

Lara smiled at him. “Persistence can pay off.”

“But remember,” Ray reiterated sternly, “ _space._ ”

“Right, right, space, gotcha…”

Something slowly stirred in Sirius’ memory at Lara’s words… _persistence can pay off_ …and warmth suddenly pooled in his chest as he remembered saying them to her earlier in the week. He moved a hand to brush her cheekbone, wanting to secretly signal his acknowledgment, but she jerked at his touch, turning to look at him confusion ( _and fear_?). He faltered, unsure of what he saw in her mossy eyes, and for a moment wondered if he had somehow imagined everything between them.

In an instant, however, Lara was beaming greetings at her friends that had just invaded the area, squashing themselves on the couches. Sirius watched as James scooted off his space and offered it to Lily, redolent with joy as she sat down shyly. Sirius frowned. _Why are women so confusing?_

He had assumed that Lara had chosen those words specifically, but maybe it was just a coincidence. Was it really fear he had seen in her eyes? Studying her face as she turned and said something to him excitedly, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was the booze making his head funny. Maybe he _had_ mistaken her desire with the intensity of his own. Maybe all they were ever going to have were the small stolen moments of summer…

~

It was five o’clock in the morning and Sirius was dragging his feet up the dormitory steps after James, Remus stepping on the backs of his shoes.

“Quit it, Moony,” Sirius grumbled, “you not gon’ save more than ten seconds by goin’ in fron’ of me.”

Finally reaching the dormitory, Sirius stumbled to his bed to the soundtrack of similarly heavy footfall and mashed his face into a pillow.

“Man, they party hard…” he heard James sigh distantly.

Sirius kicked off his jeans clumsily and closed his hangings on the pale sun peeking over the horizon. His eyes were slowly drooping, as though pewter cauldrons were tied to his lashes, but his mouth quirked into the pillow as he smiled back to the point in the night when Lara had drunkenly complimented his Doc Martens, slurring loudly that he dressed the way she wanted all men to dress, and as James’ snores thrummed into the air, he fell asleep, drifting into dreams of summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowed MC 2-D name from Gorillaz, DJ Preditah from DJ Preditah, song lyrics 'credit in the straight world' by Hole. 
> 
> Everything else is my own creation. 
> 
> flashback chapter next, might get a bit salacious. stay tuned.


	11. Late Summer, 1976

Sirius Black was extraordinarily comfortable. In fact, Sirius Black was hard pressed to find a time that he had ever felt this comfortable in his life. Something smooth as silk was caressing his face and a light breeze ruffled up his back, blowing tiny tents under his top. He sighed contentedly, his breath fanning the silky material. Wherever he was, it smelt superb. He inhaled the aroma deeply. He couldn’t place it but it aroused a distant memory, and the faint outline of a big belly and walrus moustache inviting him to sniff a particular potion jiggled merrily in his mind. He smiled, feeling his morning wood stretch against the waistband of his trousers, and he pushed his hips lightly into whatever he was lying upon. It was captivating: the silk, the smell, the gentle wind.

Dimly, he could hear the faraway sounds of a busy London town ( _clangs_ , _hollers_ ). _Odd_ , he thought, _maybe some muggles are working out front…dear Mother will be so mad_ …He smirked to himself, relishing in the potential torment of his family.

He resumed his lazy grinding, unable and unwilling to stop, and another distant sound danced into his ears. A lullaby. He hazily tried to focus his hearing, curious now at the foreign soundtrack of his morning, and a redolent voice bloomed. He didn’t know who she was, but he hadn’t ever heard anybody sing like her – earthy and rich, evocative of jazz bands in small bars and hot, balmy countries. He imagined it was what whiskey, leather and smoke would sound like. He shivered, the thought of that voice purring into his ear, the start of a deliciously compromising position, and he began grinding the bed again with a renewed vigour. It was only after he had let out an audible throaty growl that he realised the singing had been replaced with low laughter.

He blinked open his eyes.

It took a minute to pass for Sirius to figure out where he was, but then the nights events started rewinding their steady escape, and he realised that the laughter and mossy green eyes surveying him with apparent interest from across the room belonged to Lara Love.

“Please.” She grinned. “Don’t stop on my account.”

He had a choice. He could either let himself be swallowed by the bed in embarrassment or own it. He chose the latter. He wasSirius Black, after all.

“Like what you see?” he replied with a lazy smirk.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?” 

Sirius’ smirk stretched at the look on her face that was far less abstruse than her choice of reply. Her eyes travelled up and down his body, slowly, pick hovering over her guitar, left hand frozen in _C Minor 7_ ,finally holding his gaze again, resolute. His limbs weakened somewhat under her unabashed staring. He was used to girls checking him out, hell even worshipping his physical form, but an incriminating comment would often be enough to turn them into embarrassed and decorous creatures, in denial of what their bodies so feverishly displayed. Which Sirius often thought spoiled the fun. But here was a girl – no, a woman – who seemed so unafraid of her desire and, in that moment, Sirius was the proud object of it.

He felt himself grow some more against his waistband, and he felt (powerful). It wasn’t the type of power he usually felt, where he could send a damsel aquiver with the flick of a finger. It was power from power itself; it was being chosen by a deity, and the thought that he might be able to seduce such an unearthly being made him feel invincible.

Sirius could sense that Lara was in the mood for banter when she still hadn’t averted her eyes, so he decided to meet her there and rolled over onto his back, exposing the taut bulge of his pants.

“Yes, actually, I would,” he said, widening his legs with his grin.

Lara blinked at him, then threw back her head and erupted into loud, cackling laughter.

There was even something about the quality of that that made Sirius pause; she seemed to lose herself in the comedy entirely. He watched her hungrily, wondering what she would look like at the height of pleasure; whether she would similarly lose herself as she toppled over the edge. He imagined her beneath him, her arm held over her face at the moment of release and watching, as he dragged it away, the unrestrained surge of the dark gods in her eyes. He shivered, glad for the fact that she was still laughing too hard to notice the filthy thoughts so apparently displayed on his face and crotch.

“You’re a riot, Black,” she said, after regaining some composure, the guitar hanging loosely now.

“I aim to please.”

“Would you like a gold star?”

She winked and moved from the couch, disappearing around the venetian room divider. Sirius put his hands behind his head and widened his legs to ease some of the mounting pressure on his cock. He didn’t feel too bad considering how many lowballs he’d sunk last night.

He was just enjoying the breeze now playing over his face when his vision went dark.

“Fresh towel,” said Lara.

“Thanks, Love.” His voice was muffled. “But you know, I can get a _lot_ dirtier than this before needing a shower.” He pulled the towel off his face and waggled his eyebrows at the girl now standing over him.

Lara grinned, a dark look flitting across her face as she glanced down at his bulge. “I don’t doubt it, you filthy little boy.”

Sirius’ eyes widened to rival the spread of his teeth. This was too good to be true.

“But,” she continued, “I have shit to do, so you can either get the fuck up and come with me or get the fuck out.”

Sirius’ grin slacked slightly. Had he heard her right? A glimmer of hope flickered through him, but he pushed it away. Awkward mornings like this inevitably leant themselves to empty niceties.

“You want to hang out today as well?” he asked, confused.

She cocked her head to the side. “We don’t have to, and you certainly won’t be doing anything more than joining me on my errands, but I distinctly remember a very drunk Sirius Black running up to muggles last night and begging them to adopt him.” Her mouth twitched slightly. “I believe the words were: ‘save me from my family, save me from myself, Merlin please’.”

Sirius felt his jaw slack even more and his face started to grow warm.

“And I don’t know about you,” she pressed on, ignoring his expression, “but I’m not the type of person to knowingly send someone back to an obvious hell hole. Believe me.” Her expression sobered slightly. “I understand a lot more of what you’re talking about than you might think.”

Sirius’ bottom jaw had now almost completely disconnected from the rest of his face and it felt like his eyes were two giant dinner plates.

Lara snorted. “You look like you’ve been obliviated. Now, quickly, make your decision ‘cause we’ve got to get moving if you’re staying.”

“I’m staying,” he said hoarsely.

“Good. Shower. Now.” She cocked a thumb over her shoulder.

He nodded numbly and she walked over to flop onto the couch, picking up her guitar and resuming her reclined strumming.

Sirius propped himself up on his elbows, his mind sluggish, the cogs turning in protest, trying to make sense of what was happening. The late night and heavy boozing, however, meant all he did was stare at Lara blankly. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand, but that random acts of kindness from people he didn’t know very well were few and far between in his life; his upbringing had made him unfairly suspicious of everybody’s motives.

He sighed and swung his legs off the bed, dusting away the _‘why’s’_ for another time. Besides, there was something about Lara that made him feel as if he could trust her. Ever since becoming an Animagus, Sirius had found his instincts had sharpened, and a good sniff was often all he needed to get a vibe from someone. He grinned ruefully as he walked to the bathroom, remembering how he had buried his nose into her sheets this morning like a common mutt. 

~

Sirius emerged several minutes later feeling less frustrated and decidedly fresher. Lara wasn’t in the room, so he rolled his shirt sleeves up and walked over to the open window, humming appreciatively at the sprawling scene. Masses of buildings lined higgledy-piggledy, muggle cars zooming like bumblebees through the streets, small splashes of green, a fresh blue sky, the beaming sun glinting off every window, constructing a sea of bright mirrors. Sirius imagined the school must be up a hill to allow a view like this, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall the journey here. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he stood there for a while letting his face and chest soak up the hot rays. The protective charms on Grimmauld place seemed to repel even the sunlight; Lara’s room devoured it.

He was just perusing Lara’s record collection with approval, having meandered away from the window, when she came back into the room, wiping her glistening forehead on the back of her hand.

“Can you ride a bike?” she called over to him, pouring herself some water from a jug on the side.

“Are we going on a motorbike?!” 

Lara held a finger up and gulped down her glass in one. “Sorry – thirsty – er, no I meant a bicycle. Sort of similar though I suppose.”

“Oh.” He shrugged, faintly disappointed. “Not sure, maybe if it’s similar.”

“You can ride a motorbike though?” Lara looked puzzled.

“Hell yeah! James got me a driving lesson for my birthday last year, they fucking rule!”

“Oh, well you’ll love this afternoon then!” said Lara brightly, “we’ve got to swing by my mate’s garage to pick something up.”

“And there will be motorbikes there?”

“Yes.” She laughed at his suspicious expression. “He’s a mechanic. As in builds and repairs the motorbikes,” she added when he looked confused.

“Okay – I’m excited again now.” Sirius moved to find his shoes. “Can we go there first please.”

Lara shook her head. “Not feasible unfortunately. You’ll see why later.”

He pouted at her as he sat down on the couch and pulled on his scuffed-up Doc Martens.

“Don’t sass me boy, I’m in charge around here.” She gave him a stern look before shoving random things around the room into a small bag.

He saluted her. “Yes, Sergeant Major, Sir!”

“That’s better,” she purred, “good behaviour _will_ be rewarded Mr. Black.”

Sirius laughed in delight, leaning backwards on the couch, and watching her fill a bottle up from the jug.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“Moi?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“You’re not afraid to tell me off.”

Lara snorted. “Should I be?”

Sirius put his hands behind his head, exposing more of his chest as the shirt was pulled open, and stretched his legs out under the coffee table languidly.

“Most girls are at least nervous around me. I mean” – he flashed her a dazzling smile – “who can blame them?”

Lara looked at him and burst into that cackling laughter again. Sirius watched her gleefully; her scrunched up face, her legs lopsided under her long shorts, her t-shirt wet at the front, water sloshing over the top of the bottle with her heaves. It took her a moment to calm down, and she was still clearing her throat as she refilled the bottle and moved to walk around the room divider.

Sirius looked at her expectantly as she passed.

She shrugged, still smiling. “I dunno. I just like pushing buttons in the hopes someone someday will push mine, I guess.”

“Oh, so you have _buttons_?”

But she didn’t reply, and Sirius could hear a running tap and hangers scraping over railings. She reappeared a few minutes later running gel through her damp hair and dressed in a tight white strappy tank top with ( _Merlin, no bra)_ frayed acid-wash denim. She looked scrappy, he thought, with her exposed shins and their lilac bruising. She threw something similar to her top at Sirius and sat on the floor to pull on some leather biker boots that had steel toe caps.

“What’s this?” He unfurled the cotton material into what seemed to be a man’s vest.

“Spare top. It’s hot today and we’ll be getting physical; don’t want you dying on me in that shirt.”

“Physical, eh?”

Lara rolled her eyes. “Just put it on.”

“If you say so, dear.”

Sirius stood up and stripped off his shirt, standing and flexing his muscles dramatically as she looked on with a grin. He saw her eyes move to the few tattoos he had with interest.

“Oops!” He dropped the vest and put a hand over his mouth. “Let me just…pick that up.” His voice was breathy, and turning around he bent over slowly, pushing his arse in Lara’s direction and winking over his shoulder.

There it was – that laughter again.

Sirius stood up and put the vest on, drinking in the show of lunacy that had overcome her. Each time it was like he was peeling back whatever guarded her soul, and it was in that moment that he realised he wanted to be the only one afforded that privilege, and the only one to make her laugh like that. A rattle of panic clattered through him. He had convinced himself at the start of summer that whatever strange feelings towards Lara that had plagued him at the end of fifth year were just because he was bored. _But now_ …he forced the thoughts away, willing the tightness in his chest to uncoil.

~

Sirius and Lara were walking through the Victorian school building and out into the front playground. The school wasn’t nearly as menacing as it had seemed last night. It had a certain run-down charm, only added to it by the various music’s he could hear being played out of different windows.

“It’s a bit of a mecca for struggling musicians,” she explained, following his stares.

“It’s a bit of a strange place to live to be honest, Love.”

She chuckled. “It’s quite common for artsy muggles. London is full of vacant buildings awaiting demolition. In the meantime, they let people live in them in exchange for cheap rent.”

“Who’s they?”

“Here they are.” Lara ignored his question and pointed towards two bicycles leaning against the front gate, one blue and one yellow. “Just had to put the other one together this morning.”

She was right, they sort of looked like delicate motorbikes.

“I think you should take quick spin around the playground first,” she said, brows knitted above her sunglasses. “Just for safety.”

He waved her off. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“On your own head.”

They wheeled the bikes out the front gate and started walking up the road.

“So, Sergeant, what’s on the itinerary for today?” asked Sirius.

“Okay, so first stop Borough Market, then to my friend Bunny’s to drop off our wares, then to Dom’s garage, and then _finally_ we can come back here and chill out. Sorry,” she added.

He waved her off again. “Pfft, piece of cake.”

“Mmm, yeah you wait until we’re halfway across London and you realise that bikes are not even remotely close to broomsticks, or even motorbikes for that matter.”

At her words she swung her legs over the blue bike and started pedalling up the road slowly, looking back to check on Sirius. He followed suit, a little wobbly at first, and it took a moment to get used to the pedals, but soon he was happily zooming behind Lara under the bright summer sun.

~

Sometime later they arrived at the market, which Lara explained was kind of a muggle London institution. Sirius was feeling vaguely glad to be getting off the bike for a bit; the roads had gotten busier the closer they’d travelled into the centre of London, and even with Lara signalling and shouting instruction, he had still felt at the mercy of the big red buses roaring around him. He preferred the size and heaviness of a motorbike, he decided.

Much to the pleasure of his grumbling stomach, Lara dragged him for coffee and a fry-up first at a quaint little place overlooking the bustling stalls. She had forced him to try the scallops as well, which he had to admit were fucking delicious despite his scepticism.

They were leaning back in their chairs now, watching the hustle, a humming catalogue of shouts from the market and clatters from the café filling their silence. They were lazy after the feast. Through his stupor, it slowly clunked into place that, in the fortuitousness of this morning, Sirius had completely forgotten his manners. He turned hastily to her.

“By the way, I forgot to say thanks for not throwing me out on my arse last night. And for letting me come with you today as well. You didn’t have to do either, and I know it’s kind of weird, and I appreciate it.”

She gave him a confused smile. “You’re welcome, Black, but I’m unclear on what’s weird exactly?”

“Well, us not really hanging out at school and then hanging out three days in a row I guess…”

“School isn’t life, Sirius. People become friends just like this all the time.”

He scratched his chin uncomfortably. She was right, of course, and Sirius felt small and stupid as he thought about the fact that, for him, school was his _entire_ life. He hated his world outside of it and avoided it as much as possible.

“Seriously though.” He paused. “If you want me to leave at any point just say.”

“Do you really think I’m the type of person not to?”

He looked at her intently for a moment. “No.”

Sirius meant it. From the little time he had spent with Lara, it was obvious that she did and said exactly what she wanted. If someone seemed to not jive with her, she didn’t really care, simply shrugging her shoulders and saying, ‘can’t take care of yourself and please everyone at the same time’.

“Good.” She reached over and patted his arm “Just chill out, man.”

Sirius sighed internally, watching her striking features soften, turn serene, invite speculation, as she leaned back in her chair for a quick catnap. He was well and truly fucked.

~

Borough market, it turned out, was a veritable treasure trove of interesting and delectable wares sold by pudgy-faced cockney men who bellowed in your face. Lara had given Sirius some tips for haggling and his temper was still flying as he recovered from an altercation with a particularly tenacious fellow.

In the end, they left with: four humongous monkfish; a jar of truffles that, once he calculated the conversion rate to Galleons, he realised were ridiculously expensive; fancily wrapped butter; and three loaves of some sort of specialty bread. Sirius thought he had heard the word ‘fermented’ come out of the baker’s mouth ( _but that would be ludicrous…surely_ ). Lara had also picked out some carrot and ginger juice for them that she assured him rivalled pumpkin.

They walked to the bikes, an interestingly spicy affair due to the juice, and Lara explained the route to Bunny’s.

“– and once we get to there we can just ride along the Thames to Greenwich.”

“So, no buses this time?”

“Mmm, maybe one or two.”

She grinned at his huffy expression.

~

“Ciaaao, come in, come in! You must be dehydrated, you poor darrrling’s, let me get you a beer – GIANNI! DUE BIRRE, BELLA, PRONTO!”

A distant voice drifted up from the back garden to where Sirius, Lara, and Bunny stood on the doorstep of a small, white spackled house in Greenwich. It could have been a coastal cottage, were it not for the grey and hurried street.

“Don’t work him too hard.” Lara grinned and hugged her friend and they walked into the house arm in arm, the food already zooming down to the kitchen and packing itself away.

Bunny, it seemed, was a loud Italian witch in her early-twenties, and possibly the most colourful person Sirius had ever met. Her hair was dyed in varying shades of red, orange and gold, set-in victory rolls, and her clothes were contrasting tones of pink and turquoise. He also noticed that most of her skin was covered with bright tattoos. The overall effect was rather eye-watering but not unpleasant. Almost like a violent sunset over a foamy sea. The house was not dissimilar inside; Sirius thought it looked like an eccentric antique store crossed with Madam Puddifoot’s tea-room in Hogsmeade.

“And who exactly is this dashing young _Polpetto_ taking up space in my kitchen?”

Lara tried to stifle her laughter but failed, and Sirius made a mental note to ask what _Polpetto_ meant later.

He bowed his head towards Bunny with a genial smile. “Sirius Black, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss. Bunny.”

“Ooh, this one’s a gentleman!”

“Due birre?”

Gianni had come into the kitchen holding out two thin bottles. While Bunny was curvy and colourful and commanded the room, he was the complete opposite. Slight framed and dressed in earthy tones, with black hair, golden skin, and a thin handlebar moustache, Sirius was reminded of a sparrow.

“Lara, _Tesoro_ , how are you?” Gianni kissed her on both cheeks. “and who is _this_ – molto Bello!” Gianni looked at Sirius in awe and pulled him in for a double kiss as well, leaving his cheeks burning. 

“Don’t crowd the boy, Gianni, you’re making him blush!” Bunny shooed the man away. “It’s hard enough being that good looking without men like you fawning all over him!”

“Cuore Mio, why do you pain me so much –”

“Because sei un _rompicoglioni_ –”

Bunny and Gianni started arguing in rapid Italian, so Sirius sat down next to Lara, took a gulp of the crisp beer, and grinned at her.

“I like your friends.”

She snorted. “Of course, you do. You’d befriend a boggart if it told you that you were good-looking.”

Sirius chuckled. “So how do you know Bunny?”

“She’s in our band, she plays bass.”

“Oh cool, I had no idea.” He began thumbing up the bottle label that read _Moretti_ , watching Bunny and Gianni get even more animated. “That reminds me actually…your voice…”

“Hmm?” She glanced sideways at him.

“It’s incredible…I had no idea.”

“You’ve definitely heard me sing before, at least on the radio, no?”

“I’ve heard you arguing with a microphone, if that’s what you mean.”

Lara threw back her head and laughed. “I can’t argue with you there, Black,” she said, grinning.

Bunny and Gianni had appeared to tire themselves out and were now kissing passionately up against the cupboards, oblivious to the two teenagers sniggering in the background.

“Oi!” Lara threw her beer top at the couple. “We didn’t come here for softcore pornography, wrap it up!”

Bunny and Gianni broke apart, both red and flustered.

“Scusa, scusa,” said Gianni, smoothing his hair, “I will get back to my paintings now.” He moved over to shake Sirius’ hand. “I hope to see you again. And Lara, I will see you tomorrow.”

Bunny flocked to the table once he had left. “So, I’m thinking you should come round at three tomorrow. Romily will be here by then, and Gianni will fire up the barbecue.” She turned to Sirius. “Are you coming?”

“Sirius doesn’t want to come to something as boring as band practice,” answered Lara before he could say anything.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Er…where’s the toilet, Bunny?”

“Upstairs, Bellisimo.”

Sirius left the kitchen and found his way to the first floor, registering vaguely that everything was yellow. Had Lara had enough of him? He couldn’t blame her; he was like a fly constantly buzzing around. But he had thought they were having a good time, and, despite feeling nervous, there was an effortlessness to being in her presence.

 _Maybe it’s not the same for her,_ he thought gloomily as he relieved his bladder. _Or, maybe,_ a more defiant voice went through his head, _she just has stuff to do – as if you were going to be able to stay with her for the rest of the summer, don’t be an idiot…_

He felt annoyed with himself. He had told her to let him know when she wanted him gone, and now he was upset that she had done exactly what he had asked.

_Merlin, you’re like a schoolgirl sometimes, Black…_

~

Downstairs, Bunny was whispering passionately to Lara.

“Aww let him come! He looked like such a sad little puppy when you said no.”

Lara shook her head. “We need to work on that song and he’s…distracting.” She frowned at her beer.

Bunny squealed. “Oh my, you’re in love! And no surprise, he’s something else. Those cheekbones, those arms – _Mamma Mia_!”

“Shut up, Bunny.”

But she ignored Lara and leaned in closer, whispering even more furiously, then suddenly clamming up as soft black curls ducked under the entrance way to the kitchen. Lara noticed Sirius frown at them, and she prayed to Merlin that he hadn’t heard Bunny’s words. She figured he hadn’t though, because, if anything, he looked a little hurt. Lara sighed internally; for a boy that got a ridiculous amount of attention, he didn’t seem to be able to handle any kind of rejection very well.

“Right, Bunny, Sirius and I need to get to Dominic’s. I was wondering if you could apparate us to the alley behind?”

“Of course, darling.”

A lot of faff then ensued as Sirius tried to cram both bikes into the hallway and get into a good position for apparition. After a while, Bunny decided that she would apparate the bikes separately, and took Lara and Sirius first through that familiar tight tube and out into a sunny alleyway that smelled strongly of petrol. She disappeared and returned a second later.

“Thanks, Bunny baby.” Lara kissed both her cheeks and sent her tottering over to Sirius for two more before she bid farewell.

“Ciao, darling’s!” She turned on the spot and vanished with a loud crack.

Lara rounded on him immediately. “I felt you react to what I said and I’m telling you now before I chicken out – It’s not that I don’t want you there tomorrow, but we need to get this song finished and Robyn, our drummer, is in Australia right now so there’s already issues and sorry but you’re kind of distracting, meaning, you distract me by simply being there, not just with all the crap that comes out of your mou –”

Sirius put his hand over her mouth, halting her tirade. “Hush, please, it’s okay.” He grinned at her. “I get it, honestly, I’m sorry for taking it the wrong way before.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You sure?” she said against his hand.

“Promise.”

~

Sirius trailed behind Lara out of the alleyway and down a wide street, half listening to her warnings that Dominic was a muggle and to watch his mouth. He was feeling very merry again, albeit somewhat stressed that such a teeny issue had had such a profound and instantaneous impact on his mood. But he’d save that stress for later, because they had just rounded another corner into a parking lot and Sirius thought he might die from happiness.

Row upon row of shining, thick, muscular motorcycles were lined up outside a large garage door that was open and emanating a deep growling rumble that Sirius knew could only belong to a Harley Davidson. He followed Lara, practically bobbing with excitement, and saw a bald man in a flannel vest kneeling next to a bike, tweaking something with a spanner, while a younger man in a motorcycle jacket revved the engine.

Lara picked up a wrench off the floor and banged it against a large toolbox.

“Lara!” Dominic stood up and the rumbling engine died out. Hastily wiping his greasy hands on his frayed jeans, he strode forwards to pull her into a seemingly bone-crushing hug.

Dominic was about six foot four and, although softened in the belly by too many beers, still had the ripping arm muscles of an aged bodybuilder, browned by the sun, and punctuated with faded tattoos. A luxurious goatee contrasted his shining head, and his crinkled eyes were as friendly as his soft cockney accent.

“Watch it, Dom, I’m not quite benching what you are.” She laughed, massaging her ribs. “This is my friend, Sirius, by the way.”

Dominic took Sirius’ hand into one of his large, calloused ones. “How ya doing fella?”

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“You like bikes?” asked Dom, sounding surprised, “wouldn’t ‘ave been able to tell with them hands, son.”

Sirius grinned ruefully “I don’t own one yet, unfortunately.”

“Can you ride?”

“I’ve ridden a couple of times before.”

“Well, let me finish up with this customer and I’ll see what I can do.”

Sirius turned his head wildly to Lara after gaping at Dominic’s retreating form. “What did he mean?!”

“He means he might let you ride one!” she replied, voice raised over the resuming roars.

“Merlin almighty!”

She waved him back out the shop. “I’d quite prefer to keep my eardrums.”

They spent a while perusing the bikes outside. Sirius had never seen so many beautiful things in one place at one time. Each bike took on its own Herculean shadow; a dark army of titans waiting to be chosen. He was practically drooling, but he didn’t care.

Finally, he found his baby.

It was heavy and low, all twisted silver and matt black, thick and angry wheels, body more bountiful than a woman’s breasts. He let out a low whine, ignoring Lara’s snort of amusement, and draped himself over the top, hugging his body to it. The metal was silky under his caressing fingers.

“This is the one,” he whimpered, sure a tear was about to drop from his lashes.

“Ah, she’s a beaut that one – good eye lad!” Dominic was walking over to them, wiping his hands on a rag.

Sirius pushed himself up into a seated position. “How much?!” he demanded.

Dominic chuckled. “Don’t be such an eager beaver, my friend. You’re lucky you came with Lara here or I would 'ave bent you over and fucked you!”

“How much?” repeated Sirius, glowering menacingly.

“He’s like a growling little puppy dog, ain’t he.” Dominic looked down at Sirius fondly. “Look, scamp, take it out for a spin first, see how it feels. You wouldn’t marry a bird before you banged ‘er, would ya?”

Sirius and Lara erupted into laughter as Dominic walked off to find the keys, whistling jovially.

“I mean, he’s got a point.” She grinned and sat down on the tarmac.

Sirius hummed in assent, the image of him pounding into Lara on top of the motorbike, before riding off into the sunset, racing through his mind. They could be like Bonnie and Clyde. The posters he had on his bedroom wall of bikini-clad muggle women posing the same way paled in comparison. He swallowed, throat suddenly a bit dry, only to look up and find Lara studying his face with a coy smile.

“So, how do you know Dominic? Do you like motorbikes?” he asked hastily. It was like she knew when there were filthy thoughts on his mind.

Her smile turned into a wide dirty grin and Sirius was almost certain that she was telepathic.

“I’d rather get on the back of one and leave the driving to someone else, but generally yeah.” She looked away and cleared her throat, a carnation pink vaguely visible on her cheeks. “Dom, I met a few years back. Romily, our lead guitarist, used to live around here, and I’d skate around this lot when I didn’t wanna go home.” She readjusted, leaning back on her elbows, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Her eyes were cool again. “It pissed Dom off to no end and became mates after that.”

“I hear my name – it better be good things only!” Dominic had returned with the keys and two helmets. “Now, son, go for a spin on your own first, then Lara can hop on the back so you can see how you like it with a little lady on there.”

Lara narrowed her eyes up at him. “Little lady?”

“That’s right pet.” He patted her on the head, and she scowled, muttering under her breath something about _Chewbacca_ and _ugly motherfucker_ , triggering another bout of laughter from the men. 

~

Sirius Black was roaring up an empty road, the late afternoon sun cutting shapes into the scene. His surroundings were only in colour, faint blobs, streaks. There was nothing like it: the speed; the growl; his girl hollering woops and yells into his ear, her hands snaked around his waist. No, not his girl. Not yet. But for a moment, inside his helmet, he could cocoon himself in the fantasy. He imagined them years later, in their own place – whiskey, motorbike oil, lazy mornings, happiness.

It was nearly over. He could see Dominic in the distance, waving at them. He wanted to smear past, disappear over the horizon in a devilish break. But he slowed, and leathery-skinned man grew in definition as Sirius pulled into the parking lot and killed the hum of the engine, only his wild heart left thumping in his ears.

Dominic’s left eyebrow was raised. “Well?”

“It’s the one.”

Dominic smacked his hands together in glee and Lara removed her helmet, a huge grin plastered unevenly on her feverish face. Sirius looked back at her, similarly lopsided, and their eyes met in an exchange of unvoiced joy, as if to say – _this is fucking it!_

“How much?” Sirius echoed his previous sentiment.

“I like your gumption, son, so I’m happy to let it go for two-grand.”

“Two-grand…two-grand…”

They hung fire; his quick arithmetic, her legs still framing his, Dominic’s tapping foot, soft from the rubber sole. The shadows seemed to lengthen during the time.

“It’s a one of a kind.” Dominic was tracking the thoughts rolling over Sirius’ face. “They don’t make this model anymore. Non-refurbished you’d be looking at nearly double.”

“Dom, can we lay claim on it?” interjected Lara. “A small holding fee, for now?”

Dominic eyed her keenly. “Alright,” he said after a pause, “I reckon I can do that.”

Sirius’ head whipped up. “Are you sure?”

“Lara’s like a daughter to me,” he said gruffly, “we take care of our own.”

It was lucky, really, that Sirius had found his bike at Dom’s. He was a salesman to the bones, but he had a big heart, and he was true to his word. He really had become like a father figure to Lara over the years, she explained. But Sirius was only half-listening. He couldn’t help but mull over the insidious implication in Dom’s voice; Sirius was certain that if he didn’t _‘take care’_ of Lara, Dom would be _‘taking care’_ of him.

Lara was shouting into the garage about something or another, presumably to bring out whatever Dominic had made for her. Sirius stood and admired his baby and the girl he wanted to put on the back, who had now started gesticulating animatedly, the orange sun carving sharp shadows into her glass-cut features. He looked around at the source of her reaction, his neck cricking from its incredulous jerk backwards.

“What on earth are we supposed to do with that?!”

~

“Why. Did you not. Rudding. Tell me. I was here. To be. Your mule?!” Sirius was panting, thirsty.

Lara laughed at him, its quality uneven and stilted. “Because then you wouldn’t have come, silly!”

He grumbled. “I knew it, fucking knew it, there’s always an ulterior motive, should have bloody trusted my gut…”

His mutterings dwindled, dulled into angry air by the sudden swell of background noise from up the street.

“Calm down, Jeannie.” She earned herself a glare for that one. Jeannie was a notoriously whiny Ravenclaw whose nasal soprano pierced through the babel of any classroom. “I would have let you stay even if I didn’t have a two-man errand on my list.”

“And who _else_ were you going to go with?”

“I would have phoned a friend, Black, don’t be so dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Dramatic?!” His eyes bulged slightly. “This _is_ dramatic! We’re carrying a ten-foot fucking pole on our shoulders in a charming thirty-degree heat, while balancing on two flimsy scraps of metal! Which, incidentally, _I_ hadn’t done before today, _Miss. I-can-ride-with-no-hands_! And I think” – he took a gulping breath as his lungs ran out of steam and Lara struggled to contain her laughter – “I see a goddamn _hill_ coming up!”

Her control slipped, the pole now shaking from her heaves, Sirius cursing as he wobbled. They had each taken an end of the pole and pedalled out of the parking lot at Dominic’s, turning more than a few heads. The journey had made Lara think of a three-legged race that muggle children often participated in at school.

“I’m not a total barbarian!” she wheezed out, “We’re about to come off onto the canal path now. It’ll be single file but it’s a straight shooter up to Camden.”

“ _Now_ better be _right fucking now_! I’m ready to sod the whole no-magic-outside-of-school thing and hex you.”

Lara looked at him, momentarily apologetic, until she realised he was teasing her. An almost indiscriminate smirk was hidden in the too rich curve of his cupids bow, his set jawline sporadically pliant, grey eyes challenging her to bite back. She opened her mouth in a ready quip, but the thought lost substance in her mind, stalling, suddenly colourless, as her own green eyes followed a pedestrian walking in the opposite direction instead. His right hand moved to and from his face in regular intervals, almost robotically consigned to that routine. Always only dominant handed.

“What?” Sirius blinked, her expression catching him off guard.

“I just – I just realised…” She laughed lightly in astonishment. It came out more like a gurgle.

“What?” he echoed, slightly terser. He was craning his neck around now, the movement stunted by the pole.

“I haven’t had a single cigarette today.”

She said it softly, almost privately, but he heard her, and now it was his turn to shake the pole, shoulder’s rising and falling in laughter. It was an incredulous sound. Lara joined in, her hilarity detached, twisted in his obliviousness of what it meant to forget about an addiction for a whole day.

For a whole day.

They teetered up the wide, empty road. His boyish jests, her growing realisation of something bottomless, their voices echoing through the overhanging trees; they rode into the early evening.

~

They had been back at her place for a while now. Music soft on the stereo. Amber and ochre candles. The fuzz of the old television set in front of them, their faces and a nearly empty bottle of wine illuminated by the box of moving colours. They sat on the floor against the couch, rolling spliffs on the coffee table. Flickers of bright orange, a crackling hiss, the specs of plant strewn across the glass surface momentarily shining like tiny emeralds. They giggled. It was sweet and smoky there. Neither of them understood what made it so appealing; why the faint brush of a finger or the accidental touch of a trouser leg felt so acute in their stuporous states. But it did. And both were too far gone to reign it in. So, they stayed, in front of the television set, nearly-but-not-quite touching, talking and smoking and eventually falling asleep on the couch as the shadows that had once fallen in muted lines took on a paler quality, pressed into each other despite the warm, thick air of August.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're down here, thanks for being on this journey with me so far. Summertime Sirius/Lara is probs my fave to write. I feel like they're in this dreamscape, like a whole different timezone to school and Hogwarts. It's not magical, if anything could be described as mundane. But I kinda think that lends itself to a burgeoning romance. Beauty in the boring, and all that. 
> 
> Introduction of more OC's - Bunny, Gianni, Dom
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks so far!
> 
> Peace.


	12. Early Autumn, 1976

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a tad experimental. If you don't like poetry, sorry.

She was standing in a playground. Her mother was beckoning her from the railings. Blue, red, green; all in succession. Spring filtering through. She went to turn, towards the beckoning hand, but something had hold of her ankle. “I can’t,” she said. Nothing came out. Her mother didn’t seem to have noticed, beckoning her still with that withered hand. This isn’t right. Her mother seemed to receive that one. “It’s your grandfathers, Lara. He wanted to say hello.” The hand seemed to bloat, fingers becoming mottled and glaucous. Maybe they had been standing there for years. And then she was in a landscape. Peat and dolerite and fog. “Don’t leave me, Lara,” he said behind her. It was her father. One-eyed and corroded, his body up to the waist in a bog. He grasped at her ankle, but the sphagnum swallowed him. She was screaming. Nothing came out.

Lara woke to a wuthering pre-dawn. Glass windows softly wrapping in the dormitories, quick, repetitive, as if it were raining. The hangings were drawn, and it was dark there. She felt tense, perhaps the result of bizarre and fractured dreams, the face of her father being consumed by the mud, it being a bubbling, living thing.

She had felt watched for the last week. By whom, she wasn’t sure. But she often caught disturbances in her trajectory, the way sunlight sometimes catches on the air in a rainbow.

He had been cold, withdrawn, as well. He, with the shoulder length rippling hair and those grey, grey eyes ( _denarii_ ). She could mine them and give her father one, saving the other for herself in order to hitch a ride up the Euphrates to Babylon, away from his Hellenistic effigy.

Her eyelids were heavy, and she drifted off again into an uneasy sleep.

~

_With his venom_

_irresistible_

_and bittersweet_

_that loosener_

_of limbs, Love_

_reptile-like_

_strikes me down_

**_With his venom_., _Sappho,_** **_(_ ** **_~615 BC)_ **

~

Before the Womping Willow had had a chance to lose the summer from its leaves, the first Hogsmeade weekend was almost upon them. It was that time of year when the vicissitudes of the seasons meant one might inevitably be dressed in a skirt and a woolly hat. It was Friday, one week since the party, and exactly five days since Sirius had stopped speaking to her, and Lara found herself between classes pulling her scarf up against the courtyard squall (consigned to the abuse as smokers often were).

It had been abrupt.

Sunday: the patchwork scene of the grounds, two pairs of shameless eyes coupling across the common room, yen fragrant and palpable ( _I know you want me_ ). She had gone to bed in the stillness of late and early, his face caterwauling through her dreams.

And then, nothing.

Thoughts drifted in and out with her drags. If one began to linger, gather cobwebs, she would take another Silk Cut from its glossy packet. It had been that way all week. Her eyes would find him; profile, cheekbone, a blue-blooded hand. His virility spilling around him and pooling in the corridors, leaving steppingstones for her in his wake.

But never his eyes ( _grey_ , _grey_ ).

She had taken to reading the Greats in his absence. Neatly packaged stanzas on passions of the heart – an effort to become Lady Lazarus, or to seek solace in Holden’s mournful verse, or to understand Catullus. Catullus – who hates and who loves. Catullus, who she had loaned him her spare copy of over the summer and who she had pondered one balmy evening in a somewhat similar state.

She kept thinking back to the beanbag: his knuckles on her cheekbone; how she had pulled away before her thoughts had caught up with her; his face, after.

The packet was empty.

~

_Mostly it is eyes that find me,_

_And your eyes are gone._

_Shoe-strings I have little need of,_

_So I pass on_

_And let you fall behind._

_I too am blind._

**_Excerpt, Passers-by., Holden. R,_ ** **_(~1922)_ **

~

Students were milling about the dungeon corridor. Double potions. Lara was standing away from her friends, leaning diagonally into the wall. They had stopped trying to engage her around lunchtime, the gold leafed cover of _Anthology: Amare_ blocking her face (“What is she looking for?”, “Answers.”)

Spurts of conversation wafted over her, growing more sonorous and nonsensical as the chamber filled out.

“Ready for class?”

It was Nood, regal features boyish and pompous. Despite her inertia, a genuine smile made its way onto her face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That foot-long essay on Everlasting Elixirs that you said you’d do in the morning?”

She groaned loudly. “ _Fuck me_.”

“Only if you beg for it.”

Lara turned ( _great, a troll_ ) and threw a withering look at Gregory Flint, a burly Slytherin whose greasy tongue was wetting its lips in her direction like a swollen slug.

“Good one, Flint. Must have only used up half your brain power there.”

He bared his teeth. Poorly laid bricks. “So, Teenage Whore – that autobiographical then?”

Lara looked at him, nonplussed. “I thought you knew that it was inspired by the rather erotically illustrious existence of a young Miss. Flint. Perhaps in hindsight it was unfairly facetious of me…”

His left eye narrowed slightly. She could see him blundering through the wilderness, ‘illustrious’ and ‘facetious’ hanging off the trees like poisonous fruits. It was only partly purposeful; half her brain was still in the 19th century with Poe. Effective, nonetheless. It drifted through her head as she waited that he would fit remarkably well as the subject of a Picasso. A salad came to mind.

“What are you on about?” he finally asked.

“It’s about your mum, Flint.” Her tone was abrasive now. Patience had never been her virtue. “Didn’t she tell you that you were a mistake?”

Those within earshot tittered, glancing furtively between the pair. Nood shifted silently, left hand poised over his pocket. The vein in Flint’s head throbbed: blue, tortuous, revealing – of his intellectual inadequacies and rising ire.

He seemed to settle on something and started forwards angrily. “Filthy fucking mu –”

“Do we have a problem here?”

It was Sirius, blocking Flint’s way to her. She couldn’t see his face but suddenly her heart was thumping and the Greats were screaming sonnets and her chest was expanding and she hadn’t realised she had folded in on herself until now. She wondered if she would cease to lose herself in the moors, or maybe he would come charging in rescue, a reprobate among the mist. The thought made her feel sick. She hadn’t truly realised how fettered to this fairy tale she had become. A month, interrupted. She felt like Rapunzel in her tower, waiting, waiting ( _pathetic, pathetic_ ).

He still wasn’t looking at her, and time seemed to slow until the scene had an underwater quality about it. Flint’s face was bull like between the standoff, nostrils rippling lazily, brow both cowed and brutish. Images of cowboys and spaghetti westerns filled her mind and the whole situation started feeling absurdly mordant. She moved forward to put a reassuring hand on Sirius’ arm, but he flinched at her touch and looked down at her, his eyes unreadable.

The Greats died out, only Tennyson left faintly wailing ( _tears, idle tears_ ).

“Um…sorry?” She withdrew her hand but not her eyes, filling them with all she had felt in the last five days.

Something slipped in his features, melted, and Sirius was suddenly looking unsure of himself as he searched her face. As abruptly as the sickness, she felt anger. Anger at his silent punishment, anger at his shifting moods, anger at being pulled asunder without her consent in such a short space of time.

She wished for something, anything less liminal.

“Just wanted to say it’s fine – I’m fine.” The bite was evident in her voice.

He shrugged, eyes vacant again. “Fine.”

She watched him go.

“Blood traitor Black’s gotten under your knickers, eh?...

(For a troll, it was a surprisingly astute observation. But then, Flint always did talk in tongue.)

…doesn’t he know it’s as busy as the Floo network down there?”

“Back off, Flint,” said Nood silkily, raising his wand.

Flint snarled. “You would curse me for a mud – ”

For the second time that day, Flint didn’t get to finish his sentence. There was a resounding bang, and he was instead to be seen flying through the air and crumpling in a heap against the opposite wall. Nood’s face was one of quiet fury. Lara distantly thought she should probably get her wand out, but she found herself preoccupied with Sirius’ expression amid the gasps and yelps of their classmates. It surprised her. It was a look she might have given an enemy.

“Oi!”

The word flew out of a cluster of Slytherins and the scene shifted fast. Then, there were two against many. It was Thermopylae.

“That was the wrong choice, Nintoku. Royal or not, I’m not sure we can let that one go.”

Selassie Zabini was leading the fray, his voice measured, his eyes lethal.

“Disgrace…”

It was almost a sibilant sound, escaping from the sumptuous lips of his twin sister Salome.

“Just you fucking try it, Zabini.”

Lara had pulled her mind out of the swamp during the flurry and found her wand mercilessly aimed between Selassie Zabini’s eyes, all her fury at the injustices of blood status, at Sirius, at her own fragile heart surging through her, eructing, creeping up into her chest, her neck, behind her ears, lining her eyebrows, as she stood in affront. Nood had taken Salome, watching her leering face unblinkingly. The rest were pale, faceless balls of dough. Cannon fodders. Muttering sweet nothings at the rear, all jagged mouths and corner spittle. The twins, however, were notorious: ruthless, clever, and visually exquisite. If they weren’t so hateful, Lara would have found herself infatuated. But there was something evil there. She felt her body begin to pulse and her spiky hair tickling her skin. The Slytherins hesitated, studying her uneasily.

“Lara, pull it back a bit,” muttered Nood, so quietly she wasn’t even sure she heard him.

Her eyes flicked around the corridor. A sea of faces; some surprised, some wary, some intrigued, her friends’ – fierce and sympathetic and travelling towards her to join the fray – and his, confused and uncertain. She lingered for a fraction longer in the grey before meeting the icy blues again, so incongruously nestled within gleaming ebony skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Salome suspiciously.

Nood answered, “nothing’s wrong with her.”

“I didn’t ask you, you filthy blood traitor.”

Lara’s jaw clenched. “Say that again. I dare you.”

The magic swam around her. Although she would pay for it tomorrow in fantasy and folk lore, she revelled in the consternation she was cultivating. They seemed to have reached an impasse and hung like an oil painting of some long-lost battle. Flint’s huffing punctuated the quiet as he tried to pull himself vertical again. She chanced a glance down the row in the interlude and swelled; Lily standing toe to toe with an inscrutable Snape, Marlene and Alice against the pale faces. Then, something moved beyond her field of vision and one by one the Marauders joined their side, finishing in Sirius’ fierce, fierce face.

All she could hear was her clamouring heart.

A screech suddenly split the air, and the dungeon door swung open to reveal a jovial voice and a big belly ballooning in the archway. Lara pulled her magic back in swiftly.

“Good afternoon everyone, apologies for the del – _good gracious_! What in the name of Merlin is going on out here?!” 

Professor Slughorn’s eyes bulged at the scene in front of him. He looked around the corridor, slack-jawed and speechless, as if an explanation might jump out from behind one of the increasingly shifty looking students at any moment. Finding none, he settled for bumbling pleas and flapped his hands at them.

“Everybody calm down, calm down!”

But nobody was willing to break first.

“ _Wands down now_!” he boomed into the chamber, moustache bristling. Despite his genial nature, no teacher was _that_ accustomed to insubordination. “And somebody very well explain the meaning of this!”

Lara and Selassie were still staring at each other; mutual attempts at menace and intimidation. Wisps of doubt and frustration passed over Selassie’s face as he assessed the situation, darkening it until his eyes were like ice chips. Lara eyed the twin’s prefect badges, mentally noting that her and Nood ought to take greater care wandering the castle in the late hours.

“Mr. Zabini?”

Slughorn’s voice was bordering on dangerous territory. Selassie let down his wand, his calculating eyes still fixed on Lara’s.

“Nothing, Sir. Just a friendly competition is all,” he said, not breaking eye contact.

That seemed to settle it.

“Well, don’t dawdle everyone – wands away, wands away – come on!” Professor Slughorn waved everybody into the classroom, then glancing to the floor on his right said, “Get off the floor Mr. Flint – what on _earth_ are you doing down there?”

Flint began to open his mouth in an accusatory way, but Selassie shot him a look and he closed it again reproachfully.

“Uh, I fell,” he grunted.

“Well, get up boy!”

~

“… _grind the Mugwort to a fine powder, adding a three-quart teaspoon to the potion and stirring thrice counter-clockwise. Repeat this action seven times, yielding on the first stir a burnt mustard colour, and on the seventh a delicate buttercup yellow…_ Lara, are you even paying attention?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry…just thinking…”

Nood frowned at her in the dim, filtered light. Low-ceilinged, rectangular, and fitting at least fifteen large square tables, the potions dungeon just managed to avoid feeling oppressive by its sheer width. The hewn stone walls housed shelves displaying all number of interesting artefacts and ingredients, interrupted occasionally with squat arched windows. Nood and Lara were sitting at an empty table in the far-right corner of the room, her having unceremoniously dragged him into the solitude.

“Flint didn’t upset you, did he?”

“As if. I couldn’t care less what people think about me.” ( _Except one._ )

“Your magic, then? I know that hasn’t happened in a while.”

“It’s fine, I think it was just a one-off.” ( _Because of him_ )

“What gives, then?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Bullshit.”

Silence.

“Well, I suppose that was quite…intriguing?” offered Nood. “Mr. Black I mean.”

Lara snorted. “Mr. Black?”

“He had a certain air of dominant authority about him, didn’t you think?”

There was something in Nood’s tone that surprised Lara; something rather sensual.

“Dominant authority?” she echoed with a smirk.

Nood held her gaze defiantly. “And what?”

“Nothing…I just didn’t know…I thought you were…?”

“I think I’m both.” He shrugged. “You’re both, why can’t I be?”

“You absolutely can be.” She smiled warmly and threw an arm round him. “Whoever you are is exactly who you’re meant to be, and that’s just perfect. Although,” she added, “if you try and seduce the only man I’ve ever really wanted, I _will_ have to beat you with my bare hands.”

There was a pause.

“I’ll spare you the embarrassment and just breeze past that confession then, shall I?” said Nood.

He screwed the top off the jar labelled _Mugwort_ , sniggering at her flabbergasted expression. She cleared her throat, attempting a menacing look. It just fell short of chagrined.

“If you utter a fucking word, I’ll shove your face into the boiling potion.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he said, “you do know we’re taught jiu-jitsu before we can even walk in my village, right?”

“And you’ve seen me beat muggle boys to a pulp in the boxing ring before. I can hold my weight, mate.”

“Fluke. They were distracted by your tits.”

She scoffed, glaring at him in challenge, and they latched eyes. Time passed, slowly, neither willing to relent. Lara could feel her eyes stinging, watching frustratedly as Nood appeared unperturbed by the inability to blink. She gave in and he punched the air in victory.

“Bastard.”

“Now you have to tell me. I’m betting it’s whatever’s been going on with you and Black since the party.” He studied her, nodding at what he saw on her face. “I knew it. Talk to me.”

Lara conceded, shrugging. “I dunno – he’s been out cold since Monday, avoiding me and shit.”

“Did you do something?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, why’s he pissed then?”

“I don’t bloody well know, do I?” she grumbled, “I’m not a bloody Legilimens.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

“I’ve tried! He just acts like he can’t hear me.” Lara could feel herself getting stroppy. “What do you want me to do?”

“Try again.”

“Absolutely not. The few times were humiliating enough as it was.”

“So, what – you’re just gonna read poetry and smoke cigarettes?”

“Precisely.”

“How very Beauxbatons of you.”

~

_…here is the deepest secret nobody knows_

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_

_and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows_

_higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)_

_and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart_

_I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)_

**_Excerpt,_ _[I carry your heart with me (I carry it in]., Cummings, E.E.,_ ** _**(1952)** _

~

The water was roiling in the cauldron now, bright blue flames rippling underneath. Lara stared at the undulating contents absently, feeling a little seasick. She hadn’t lost control of her magic like that in a long time. It was ordinary magic, the kind that made her witch; she just sometimes wore it like an exoskeleton. She could manipulate it, use it perhaps a little differently to her peers if she were ever so inclined. But not always. It had exploded from a moment of terror in her youth and had often caused catastrophe. She used to feel like an overstuffed suitcase, or a mounting tsunami behind a dam; all those years when she didn’t understand her body, when people thought she was a freak, or when her father’s drunken rage found her. She would run from one end of the camp site to the other and back again, past the Vardos and forlorn families, until she couldn’t breathe or see. Breath ragged, limbs searing. It had been the only way to cope. There were other memories. One summer afternoon; a young muggle boy, an orange pedal bike. He had shaken a soda and flipped off the lid, spraying the local shopkeeper before zooming off with a watermelon down the sweltering street. She had traced the caramelised splashes on the pavement after, ants already building road maps, feeling a strange form of camaraderie with the empty bottle now lying in the gutter.

Flash forward several years, and she was in Camden, eleven years aged, cross legged and shy, avoiding those blue eyes over their half-moon spectacles ( _“It is imperative that you control your magic, Miss. Love, if you are to attend Hogwarts. For the wellbeing of yourself, and for the protection of others. We will, of course, aid you. Do you understand me?” , “Yes, Professor Dumbledore.”_ ). He had been benevolent. More than: understanding.

Years of practice had somewhat stymied it, but she was still considered a powerful witch and her peers were often flummoxed when she seemingly put little effort in her studies yet remained a formidable force. Then, there was the wandless magic. Harder to control, accident prone. But, if wielded correctly, rather effective. Flash forward to now, just shy of seventeen, and she found herself losing her grip again, that bottomless abyss ( _black, black_ ) threatening to swallow her.

Nood nudged her back into the room and she moved into action robotically, preparing various ingredients, him tutting and managing her slapdash motions.

“What would you do if I beat you?” she asked after a while. “Fighting, I mean.”

Nood grinned roguishly. “Set my brother on you.”

“HA!” Her voice echoed around the chamber. “Your brother’s an adorable ball of fluff!”

Nood shushed her anxiously. “People are staring.”

“So what?”

She looked around at the faces boldly, the only eyes causing her expression to stumble slightly were the steely grey ones situated in an expression darker than his surname. She frowned at him in confusion, trying to telepathically ask what the _fuck was up_ , but his face changed to one of apparent boredom and he looked away.

“What in the name of Merlin…” she muttered under her breath.

Nood hadn’t heard her, teeth gritted from her previous comment. “Don’t be funny, Lara.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, I’ve got my own defendant in that scenario now.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“True.” She pouted sadly. “It’s such a shame that he feels like he can’t say anything. Does he think we’d not wanna be friends with him?”

“That’s exactly what he thinks,” said Nood flatly, “believe me, I’ve seen my brother suffer an unbelievable amount of prejudice, even from our parents – _especially_ from our parents, actually. I have no idea what _his_ parents are like, but I’ve never known someone to be brought up kindly with the condition. I mean, my parents fucking moved halfway across the world to escape the so-called ‘shame’.”

“How is Yōsuke doing?”

Nood sighed. “Trying and failing to find a job as per...last time he wrote he said he was staying with a couple others he’d tracked down in a village somewhere, but I haven’t heard from him in a couple weeks…”

Lara pulled him into a hug. “He’s strong Nood, he can look after himself, you know this.”

“I know...”

“And he’s always got my place to crash at if he’s ever in London.”

Nood looked at her sadly. “Thanks so much again for that, Lara. Yōsuke was so humbled when you offered.”

She waved him off. “It’s honestly nothing, it’s always empty during term time anyway.”

“Do you think Black and the others know?” Nood asked after a pause.

“Of course, they call him Moony. What do you think that’s about? A comedic habit of his? Quite frankly, I’ve never seen his arse.”

Nood sniggered, grinding the Mugwort powder. “You ever been to the white cliffs of Dover?” 

She pinched him, her grin threatening to split her face. 

“There’s something about _them_ though that I’m not sure of,” she said, “I have my suspicions, but no real proof.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing…”

“To be honest, I’m surprised more people haven’t found out by now.”

Lara shrugged. “I don’t think we would have found out either if we weren’t obsessed with smoking weed in the grounds in fourth year.”

“You mean, if _your_ ridiculous fascination with astronomy meant _you_ weren’t obsessed with making us smoke in the grounds at every full moon.”

“Ahhh, yes.” Lara chuckled. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

“Not really.” Nood sprinkled the Mugwort powder into the cauldron and it immediately turned a scorched mustard. “Things work out exactly how they are always meant to; cause and effect are the same thing.”

Lara started stirring the potion clockwise, frowning. “You should know that I zone out when you start speaking in Japanese proverb.”

“An apprentice near a temple will recite the scriptures untaught.”

“Okay, crouching tiger.”

"Wow." Nood shook his head, chuckling merrily, and reached for some thin wrinkled beans, angling the knife to begin slicing them up before pausing. “Wait, no! Lara! _Counter_ -clockwise!”

“…Oh fuck.”

“For fucks sake!”

“What colour even is that?”

“Bogey.”

~

On the opposite end of the classroom, Sirius Black was burning. His eyes lingered over white teeth, brushing hands, the moments after laughter. He desperately wanted to know what they’d been talking about. She’d been trying to find him all week. He hadn’t let her – rendered her blind. He’d been a ghoul in her periphery instead, searching, searching…

~

**_Exactly five days earlier, 11:39pm, Gryffindor Tower_ **

“I have something to tell you guys…”

Three boys turned their heads towards Sirius Black, who was lying on his bed, staring pensively at the curtained ceiling.

“That’s not your real hair and you’ve been wearing a wig all these years?” suggested James.

“No, this isn’t a jo –”

“I’ve got one.” Remus closed the book he was reading in bed. “When you and Wormtail disappeared that one time, you really _were_ polishing each other’s wands.”

“He’d be so lucky,” grumbled Peter, face both pale and ruddy from within a swath of blankets. 

“Be serious, Wormy,” said James.

“Guys!” Sirius was getting impatient now. “ _This_ is serious.”

“We know _you’re_ Sirius!” said James.

Remus groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, enough! That joke should have died along with Lily’s last smidgeon of respect for you.”

“Wow. That hurt, Moony.”

“That’s because _truth hurts_ , James.”

“Is the full moon round the corner or are you just on your period?”

“GUYS!” Sirius had sprung up from the bed as he bellowed to mildly startled looks.

James pointed stroppily at the concerned looking Remus lounging against his pillows. “He’s the one that real named me!”

Peter sat up and threw his blankets off impatiently. “We’re listening, Padfoot. Ignore them.”

Silence ensued. Even the iron heater in the centre had quietened its tongue in expectation of the confession. But no lattice spared Sirius of eyes. He could feel them on him, waiting, as he watched a small spider lazily making its way up the opposite wall. Whatever craving to reveal that had squirmed its way into the forefront of his brain over the weekend was waning. He figured they must know, even though he hadn’t said it aloud yet. That fair maiden, that usurper of his utopia.

He couldn’t do it.

“You know what, forget it.”

“No, Pads – ”

“Come onnn – ”

“Tell us – ”

“I’m bored!” he burst (he lied). “We never do anything fun anymore, when did we become so fucking mature?!”

He picked up a packet of Peter’s liquorice wands littering the floor and threw it at the wall. The sweets exploded out of the packet, clattering delicately around the room.

James looked at Remus in alarm. “Um – okay man, let’s do something then. How about we…take the cloak out for a midnight wander?”

“Oh, a midnight wander. I’m quivering with excitement.”

“You know, manners cost nothing,” said Remus delicately.

“Fuck off, Moony.”

~

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Lower your voice, Padfoot,” said Remus anxiously, “James, check the map for any teachers.”

“We’re fine, Moony, stop stressing.”

“Pads, you’re on my toes,” said Peter, slightly muffled between the group.

“Well, there’s barely any space under here,” Sirius grumbled.

Remus adjusted the cloak, nudging Sirius forward slightly to the relief of the small, podgy boy. “I guess we’re not thirteen anymore.”

“If you ladies stop babbling, we can get to the Room of Requirement faster,” said James.

Peter fumbled with a chocolate frog packet nervously as they shuffled down the corridor. “What are we asking it for again?”

“Something fun and definitely not mature,” stated James.

“Right…”

“Just stop worrying, Wormtail. You and Moony are so stressful sometimes,” said James.

Remus glowered. “I think the word you’re looking for is sensible.” 

“Or annoying,” muttered Sirius, feeling more disgruntled by the minute.

“Right, here we are!”

James had thrown his arm out, halting the group in front of an expanse of seemingly empty wall on the seventh floor. He looked around expectantly at the group as he pulled the cloak off them.

“Any ideas?”

“This was _your_ idea, mate,” said Remus.

“Fine.”

Eyes closed and face screwed in concentration, James walked back and forth in front of the wall. At the third turn, he stopped, opening his eyes eagerly. But where a door should have appeared in the wall, there was nothing.

“Well, this night just keeps getting better and better,” said Sirius.

“Give it a minute, Padfoot.”

But by the seventh try, James had kicked the still empty wall in frustration. It was a paltry scene: Sirius was on his third cigarette, a sooty mound of ash on the floor; Peter had finished all the chocolate frogs, brown smears cradling his mouth; and Remus had started dozing off against the wall, dribble collecting on his left shoulder.

“Just leave it, Prongs,” said Sirius wearily, “let’s go back.”

“I don’t know why the room’s being such a fucking arsehole.”

Sirius stood up, his knees protesting after their sandwiched position. He kicked Remus gently in the shins; a transiently feral look passed over the boy as he surged back to reality, but the realisation of Sirius’ outstretched hand caused his face to hollow until a tired teenager clasped palms with a friend. Remus’ hand felt cool, yet warm. Rough, yet delicate. Like an aged, yet precious book, placed on a dusty shelf, hanging off its hinges, yet full of calligraphy and gold filigree. Like him. Sirius felt a small wave of regret for his earlier behaviour. His moods were never supposed to be inflicted on his friends, but he had never been particularly apt at containing himself. Knowing his family, it was probably a genetic thing.

They were draped in the cloak, getting ready to shuffle away now, when the sound of grating stone materialised into a door on the expanse of wall.

“Wha – ” James began excitedly, but Sirius cut him off with a swift finger, hearing voices wafting through the widening crack.

And then, it was her. With the small, spiky haired one. Looking tired but pleased, giggling softly, clothes rumpled, bitter smoke and sweet sweat following them. She threaded her fingers through his hair ( _jokingly? sensually?)_ and dropped an arm around his shoulders, her lips moving to the rhythm of some inside secret, some conspiracy. And then the small one threw his head back and laughed, the sound plummeting into the air, syllables like raindrops. Or bullets.

And then everything was red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this took me fucking ages. And I'm probably gonna re-edit it like ten more times on here till it's a final version, but I figured its been long enough since I uploaded so here we go. The chapter was also meant to actually reach the Hogsmeade weekend and be twice as long, but writers block + impending exams that I can't ignore anymore have really put a cork in it. So My uploading will be slower till these exams are done, for anyone that actually cares haha. 
> 
> Anyway, whining aside, hope anyone enjoyed this!! Kinda surrealist, bit abstract, dreamlike, alongside silly random dialogue and werewolf stan. And a "lovers" spat already?! Drama for plots sake. Oh, and Lara's issue with her magic, which I'm hoping people will kinda get what the deal is re Dumbledore's understanding. All will be explained later anyway. Lara's also super deep in her feelings, they kinda both are, which I think feels strange right now perhaps, but once more late summer chapters come through it'll feel less outta the blue. 
> 
> peace x
> 
> p.s. if anyone feels offended etc with any topics pls let me know. I'm tryna be as accurate to the era as I can so I feel racial politics/stereotypes etc discussed in a satirical framework feels right for the 70's, and what teenagers would actually be like. Plus I've always thought the potterverse would never be colourblind. But, I wan't people to feel happy reading this story so if anyone feels triggered I'll whip it right out. :)


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